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Paint My Name in Black and Gold: The Rise of the Sisters of Mercy
Leeds, 1980.
Amid the violence and decay, the city was home to an extraordinarily vibrant post-punk scene. Out of that swamp crawled the Sisters of Mercy.
Over the next five years, they would rise from local heroes to leading alternative band, before blowing apart on the verge of major rock stardom. Their path was strewn with brilliant singles, astonishing EPs, exceptional album tracks and legendary live shows.
Two classic line-ups were created and destroyed: Andrew Eldritch on vocals, Craig Adams on bass, Gary Marx and Ben Gunn – later replaced by Wayne Hussey – on guitars, and a drum machine called Doktor Avalanche. Hussey and Adams styled themselves as the Evil Children and played hard both on and off the stage; neither Gunn nor Marx were natural rock 'n' roll animals, but the latter performed with such abandon that it was hard to believe he also wrote the Sisters' most delicate and beautiful music.
Eldritch was the most peculiar and compelling of them all, a singular and mesmerising amalgam of T. S. Eliot and David Bowie who staked a powerful claim to be the greatest rock star of his generation. Drawing on dozens of interviews with band members and key figures in the Sisters' journey,
Paint My Name in Black and Gold is the most complete account yet of how – against the odds and all reasonable expectation – these young men came to make transcendent and life-changing music.
Amid the violence and decay, the city was home to an extraordinarily vibrant post-punk scene. Out of that swamp crawled the Sisters of Mercy.
Over the next five years, they would rise from local heroes to leading alternative band, before blowing apart on the verge of major rock stardom. Their path was strewn with brilliant singles, astonishing EPs, exceptional album tracks and legendary live shows.
Two classic line-ups were created and destroyed: Andrew Eldritch on vocals, Craig Adams on bass, Gary Marx and Ben Gunn – later replaced by Wayne Hussey – on guitars, and a drum machine called Doktor Avalanche. Hussey and Adams styled themselves as the Evil Children and played hard both on and off the stage; neither Gunn nor Marx were natural rock 'n' roll animals, but the latter performed with such abandon that it was hard to believe he also wrote the Sisters' most delicate and beautiful music.
Eldritch was the most peculiar and compelling of them all, a singular and mesmerising amalgam of T. S. Eliot and David Bowie who staked a powerful claim to be the greatest rock star of his generation. Drawing on dozens of interviews with band members and key figures in the Sisters' journey,
Paint My Name in Black and Gold is the most complete account yet of how – against the odds and all reasonable expectation – these young men came to make transcendent and life-changing music.
451 pages, Paperback
First published November 11, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
November 17, 2021
Well, if you like the Sisters you'll find this fascinating I should think, I certainly did.
Because there was no internet when I was a youth, it was almost impossible to find out stuff about bands that they didn't tell you in interviews. Because I missed the first iteration of the band - I was too young - everything that had happened before the release of 'This Corrosion' (when I was 15) was an almost complete mystery to be scryed from the run-off grooves of records (that had to be bought in London), and tiny bits of info scrabbled together from other people.
This extremely detailed biog of the band's early years fills in lots of detail. Andrews has done tons of research and spoken to everyone (even Eldritch himself, good heavens). Craig Adams' and Gary Marx's contributions are funny and incisive and as with every music biog ever, one is left exhausted and wondering how anyone ever gets anything done. I find the idea of the 'rock persona' endlessly intriguing and there's no debate that Andrew Eldritch is a particularly specific and intense example of this.
Also, jeez, there's a lot of speed in this (unsurprisingly) and reading so much about it gave me a weirdly buzzy tight winter feeling which I hadn't realised I associated so closely with the band, even though they are famous, of course, for their amphetamine use.
Because there was no internet when I was a youth, it was almost impossible to find out stuff about bands that they didn't tell you in interviews. Because I missed the first iteration of the band - I was too young - everything that had happened before the release of 'This Corrosion' (when I was 15) was an almost complete mystery to be scryed from the run-off grooves of records (that had to be bought in London), and tiny bits of info scrabbled together from other people.
This extremely detailed biog of the band's early years fills in lots of detail. Andrews has done tons of research and spoken to everyone (even Eldritch himself, good heavens). Craig Adams' and Gary Marx's contributions are funny and incisive and as with every music biog ever, one is left exhausted and wondering how anyone ever gets anything done. I find the idea of the 'rock persona' endlessly intriguing and there's no debate that Andrew Eldritch is a particularly specific and intense example of this.
Also, jeez, there's a lot of speed in this (unsurprisingly) and reading so much about it gave me a weirdly buzzy tight winter feeling which I hadn't realised I associated so closely with the band, even though they are famous, of course, for their amphetamine use.
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October 29, 2022For a band I've been into for so long, I had a surprisingly patchy grasp of the Sisters story. At school someone had one of those things that wasn't even quite a zine, just a booklet of photocopied press clippings, between which and the oral tradition I recognised some elements here - Red Rhino, the Phono, the speed, the sheer pettiness of Gift. But the level of detail in Paint My Name is something else, not least because of its determined focus on a particular period and version of the band - or you could say, the period when they were something approaching the usual understanding of a band. Anything before Leeds is sketched in the barest terms, or inferred from what a very peculiar person Eldritch became; anything after This Corrosion is breezed through in an epilogue (and one which ends on an implication that the long drought of recorded material might be nearing its end, though I'll believe that when I see it).
Not that Eldritch begins as Eldritch, of course. As the book opens he's Andy Taylor (the confusion this would have caused in eighties pop is only alluded to the once) - except in the recollections of those who knew him back then, where he may equally be Spiggy or Von. For a while my impression of the book was that the prose was competent but unexciting, and its interest lay simply in the depth and thoroughness of the research, but gradually I realised that was unfair; Andrews has clearly interviewed everyone he could, getting colour and breadth from people it would have been easy not to dig out. But there's an artistry of its own in not letting that become a mere splurge, interlocking the different accounts to what can sometimes be amazing effect, often hilarious. And he does have a nice turn of phrase of his own when he needs to, as when describing Eldritch as "both Billy Fury and his own Larry Parnes". A recurring theme is the gap, or lack of one, between Taylor and Eldritch; perhaps being called Andrews was always going to make that a particular point of interest? Although in discussing the choice of alias, he makes a rare mis-step when he suggests the name might have come from his subject's "knowledge of H.P. Lovecraft and the Eldritch Abominations", the misplaced capitals suggesting a literally mind-blowing backing band.
The early chapters often recall the comic (at least at a distance) squalor of Withnail or The Young Ones, all snowy beds, blacked-out windows and shooting mice with an air rifle, balanced with a bathetic note of domesticity, the Prince of Darkness eating fruit shortcake biscuits while watching Hi-De-Hi!; little Ben Gunn's mum making sure he's home on time after their gig with Nico, or popping the band in her Volvo to get them to a support slot with the Clash. The influence of Alvin Stardust on the Eldritch stage persona makes sense once you see it; the role of Ted Moult in the band's early days is more surprising. Concentrating on getting t-shirts ready before music is obviously a sign that this is a band with the right priorities, and I love that the first gigs are supporting the Thompson Twins and Altered Images - bands who would also go on to make it bigger, albeit in very different ways. The impressive, sometimes incongruous bills of the time are a recurring feature, and while the book is much less concerned than a lot of recent music writing with evoking the spirit of the times as a whole, at least beyond more local concerns like breaking down town/gown divisions in Leeds, sometimes it can't help but cast light on wider changes, as when you read about early Sisters gigs in Colne, Retford, or Boscombe and think, do these places even still have venues?
When the band are on tour, and even when they're not, there's plenty of knockabout fun regarding the booze and drug antics (albeit with Eldritch often cast in the role of the headmaster on a school trip, even if this particular headmaster has a powerful amphetamine habit). The attitude to sex is more muddled, presumably partly as a function of changing mores, which mean the salacious details you'd get in accounts of the seventies rock gods to whom the Sisters played post-punk homage wouldn't play so well anymore - though it's noticeable that doors kicked in and furniture out of windows are still played very much for laughs. All of this against a background where the band at once lean into cock rock clichés, yet also take the piss, covers of Barry Manilow's Mandy and Abba's Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! alternating with their takes on Emma and Jolene. Not to mention Eldritch's incredible if erratic precision, all those Rotring pens and Letraset lyrics giving way to incredible sloppiness when time, focus or ability gave out in a way that would almost certainly be diagnosable nowadays had he the least inclination. Hence also the way that some of the early gigs sound amazing, others much less so. There's a wonderful observation on how the amount of speed the band were getting through made them want to play faster, but having the Doktor instead of a flesh drummer meant they couldn't, and the tension that brought - which, when it worked, and the sonic Wall of Pain was in full effect, must have been amazing. Still, as dysfunctional as the recording of the debut album might have been (and it really was), I think it may have coloured Andrews' attitude towards the end result, which to me still sounds like a perfect line in the tar sands, even if I now know parts of it were made with a gold disc of There's No One Quite Like Grandma on the wall. And as much as I'd love to hear the results from the world where Werner Herzog produced the follow-up (and even more love to see him and Eldritch on a Malverns excursion like some deranged homage to Penda's Fen), when I think about the two fabulous records that did follow, the sheer unabashed Steinman scale of them, Dave Beer's plaintive "Think where they could have gone" still can't help but feel a bit "Where did it all go wrong, Mr Best?"
Not that Eldritch begins as Eldritch, of course. As the book opens he's Andy Taylor (the confusion this would have caused in eighties pop is only alluded to the once) - except in the recollections of those who knew him back then, where he may equally be Spiggy or Von. For a while my impression of the book was that the prose was competent but unexciting, and its interest lay simply in the depth and thoroughness of the research, but gradually I realised that was unfair; Andrews has clearly interviewed everyone he could, getting colour and breadth from people it would have been easy not to dig out. But there's an artistry of its own in not letting that become a mere splurge, interlocking the different accounts to what can sometimes be amazing effect, often hilarious. And he does have a nice turn of phrase of his own when he needs to, as when describing Eldritch as "both Billy Fury and his own Larry Parnes". A recurring theme is the gap, or lack of one, between Taylor and Eldritch; perhaps being called Andrews was always going to make that a particular point of interest? Although in discussing the choice of alias, he makes a rare mis-step when he suggests the name might have come from his subject's "knowledge of H.P. Lovecraft and the Eldritch Abominations", the misplaced capitals suggesting a literally mind-blowing backing band.
The early chapters often recall the comic (at least at a distance) squalor of Withnail or The Young Ones, all snowy beds, blacked-out windows and shooting mice with an air rifle, balanced with a bathetic note of domesticity, the Prince of Darkness eating fruit shortcake biscuits while watching Hi-De-Hi!; little Ben Gunn's mum making sure he's home on time after their gig with Nico, or popping the band in her Volvo to get them to a support slot with the Clash. The influence of Alvin Stardust on the Eldritch stage persona makes sense once you see it; the role of Ted Moult in the band's early days is more surprising. Concentrating on getting t-shirts ready before music is obviously a sign that this is a band with the right priorities, and I love that the first gigs are supporting the Thompson Twins and Altered Images - bands who would also go on to make it bigger, albeit in very different ways. The impressive, sometimes incongruous bills of the time are a recurring feature, and while the book is much less concerned than a lot of recent music writing with evoking the spirit of the times as a whole, at least beyond more local concerns like breaking down town/gown divisions in Leeds, sometimes it can't help but cast light on wider changes, as when you read about early Sisters gigs in Colne, Retford, or Boscombe and think, do these places even still have venues?
When the band are on tour, and even when they're not, there's plenty of knockabout fun regarding the booze and drug antics (albeit with Eldritch often cast in the role of the headmaster on a school trip, even if this particular headmaster has a powerful amphetamine habit). The attitude to sex is more muddled, presumably partly as a function of changing mores, which mean the salacious details you'd get in accounts of the seventies rock gods to whom the Sisters played post-punk homage wouldn't play so well anymore - though it's noticeable that doors kicked in and furniture out of windows are still played very much for laughs. All of this against a background where the band at once lean into cock rock clichés, yet also take the piss, covers of Barry Manilow's Mandy and Abba's Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! alternating with their takes on Emma and Jolene. Not to mention Eldritch's incredible if erratic precision, all those Rotring pens and Letraset lyrics giving way to incredible sloppiness when time, focus or ability gave out in a way that would almost certainly be diagnosable nowadays had he the least inclination. Hence also the way that some of the early gigs sound amazing, others much less so. There's a wonderful observation on how the amount of speed the band were getting through made them want to play faster, but having the Doktor instead of a flesh drummer meant they couldn't, and the tension that brought - which, when it worked, and the sonic Wall of Pain was in full effect, must have been amazing. Still, as dysfunctional as the recording of the debut album might have been (and it really was), I think it may have coloured Andrews' attitude towards the end result, which to me still sounds like a perfect line in the tar sands, even if I now know parts of it were made with a gold disc of There's No One Quite Like Grandma on the wall. And as much as I'd love to hear the results from the world where Werner Herzog produced the follow-up (and even more love to see him and Eldritch on a Malverns excursion like some deranged homage to Penda's Fen), when I think about the two fabulous records that did follow, the sheer unabashed Steinman scale of them, Dave Beer's plaintive "Think where they could have gone" still can't help but feel a bit "Where did it all go wrong, Mr Best?"
February 12, 2022
A beautifully written, meticulously researched account of The Sisters’ formative and breakthrough years. All we had back in the day was Under the Rock, or copies of Sounds / the Maker, and this book really does fill in all the knowledge gaps, and lays to rest plenty of old rumours. The tour stories are fab, and the despatches from the recording studios alarming and inspiring in equal measure. My only quibble: Andrews could have included key dates a bit more often, to help old fudders like me navigate the timeline more easily. That aside, the book is an absolute belter, distilling all the fun and frustration of being a Sisters fan into its pages. And on that note, let’s hope the ‘late period’ activity continues beyond the last page.
December 20, 2023
An essential piece of reading if you ever have enjoyed anything by The Sisters of Mercy. This book is written in an entertaining way and does not pull punches yet often frames things in a humorous light. The book has lots of technical information about the sounds used by Sisters as well as interesting anecdotes about their strange odyssey to stardom.
Incidentally this book also chronicles the rise of The Mission. The only thing I must say I wish there was more about was perhaps Eldritch’s relationship with Patricia and how he roped her into joining the Sisters. That bit of information was surprisingly vague.
Otherwise this was a great read! Very informative and entertaining!
Incidentally this book also chronicles the rise of The Mission. The only thing I must say I wish there was more about was perhaps Eldritch’s relationship with Patricia and how he roped her into joining the Sisters. That bit of information was surprisingly vague.
Otherwise this was a great read! Very informative and entertaining!
April 5, 2022
Within a couple years of each other, fans of The Sisters of Mercy have been given two books about their early years. This was the second.
Andrews's history is lengthier than Ristow's _Waiting For Another War_, fueled largely by original interviews with various people associated with the band, and acknowledging Ristow's work for several included anecdotes. As a result, this is easily the more comprehensive history, but it's also somewhat more meandering: rather than tell you the straight story, Andrews tries to capture what it was like to be in frontman Andrew Eldritch's orbit circa the early 80's. Whether this makes the work more vital or more of a slog (or some of both) is subjective.
It does paint a different picture: the band and crew even more debauched, Eldritch even more distant and manipulative. It also extends chronologically further, moving into the Floodland era, which Ristow's book saves for an upcoming second volume.
I would say that if you only wanted to read one book to learn about the history of the band, Ristow's is clearer and more concise. If you already know the general history and want more "dirt" and anecdotes, this is easily your choice.
Andrews's history is lengthier than Ristow's _Waiting For Another War_, fueled largely by original interviews with various people associated with the band, and acknowledging Ristow's work for several included anecdotes. As a result, this is easily the more comprehensive history, but it's also somewhat more meandering: rather than tell you the straight story, Andrews tries to capture what it was like to be in frontman Andrew Eldritch's orbit circa the early 80's. Whether this makes the work more vital or more of a slog (or some of both) is subjective.
It does paint a different picture: the band and crew even more debauched, Eldritch even more distant and manipulative. It also extends chronologically further, moving into the Floodland era, which Ristow's book saves for an upcoming second volume.
I would say that if you only wanted to read one book to learn about the history of the band, Ristow's is clearer and more concise. If you already know the general history and want more "dirt" and anecdotes, this is easily your choice.
October 22, 2022
Detailed, well researched history of the Sisters of Mercy which was enjoyable, but ultimately felt like it ran out of steam. As someone who discovered the band before the release of Floodland I was always fascinated by the murky past and acrimonious split I heard rumours of. This book provides a lot of information, but doesn't really get to the bottom of why Andrew Eldritch is as he is.
Having read Wayne Hussey's disarmingly honest autobiographt before it, this feels rather lacking in the emotional truth of the Sisters mainman, but perhaps that's how he would like it?
Having read Wayne Hussey's disarmingly honest autobiographt before it, this feels rather lacking in the emotional truth of the Sisters mainman, but perhaps that's how he would like it?
May 17, 2022
Een muziekbio zoals die bedoeld is: niet alleen maar juicy details over drank en drugs, maar een analyse van de band in de tijd met de muziek die een rol speelde in het bestaan van de band. Veel informatie van binnenuit die ik nergens anders ooit heb gelezen. Maar dat alles niet kritiekloos, maar bezien met kritische blik. Eldritch, Mr. Sisters of mercy himself, is nog vreemder dan gedacht.
January 17, 2024
Highly detailed, with lots of first hand accounts and interviews documenting the rise and demise of the Sisters of Mercy. An excellent read
February 28, 2024
What a beautiful book, it turned out to be much better than I expected!
Having been a big fan of Sisters of Mercy, of various English bands of their contemporaries as well as several of the bands inspired by them that emerged in the 80s/90s, I became interested in this 'bandography' because I didn't really know much about the band beyond their music and some stories.
I confess that in the first half dozen chapters I was very close to giving up reading. I'm not British, and I only got to know the Sisters in the 90s, so much of what is told in the early chapters, the underground scene in Leeds in the late 70s/early 80s, the places, people, studios, labels, bands, all those names meant nothing to me. However, at some point, I started abstracting from the names and focusing on the situations, and the reading became much more captivating.
The book is a very comprehensive historical record, it is clear that a lot of work has been done, generally the situations portrayed contain accounts from everyone (or almost everyone) involved. Anyone who wants to know everything, or almost everything, about the band's early years, can and should buy this book, as they will be more satisfied and enlightened than they would imagine possible. But for me, this is not even the strongest point of the book.
The book is very intense. I laughed while reading this book, with the antics of the 'Evil Children', with the trouble with Morrissey (how is it possible to get into trouble with Morrissey?) but mainly, I was also deeply moved. The passage about Marx's return, and subsequent cancellation, for a farewell concert, broke my heart. But mainly Eldritch. Eldritch moved me a lot.
I knew little about Eldritch, apart from being a 'prick', treating everyone badly, having a deep contempt for fans, for the audience at concerts (that's why I never went to a Sisters concert). However, the book tells a different story. It tells a story of a chronically depressed person, an out-of-control drug abuser, a person unable to cope with the pressure of recording albums, going on tours. Basically, a person who couldn't handle the pressure, and because of that, had health problems, lost his hair, was on the verge of death, all in his twenties. And sadder still, a person who, by not being able to handle that pressure, ended up distancing himself, hurting, burning all bridges with the people who liked him, supported him, loved him. This was the saddest part of the book, and what really moved me.
Eldritch did not directly participate in this book, apart from some 40 year old quotes. He could have participated, used the book to reconcile with the past, with his once friends. But no, he continues to live in his isolated world, still unable to deal with the pressure, with friends, with the world.
As a music fan, I am very grateful to him.
As a reader of this book, I hope there is a sequel, even if it is not written, and I hope the main character can find peace with his past.
Having been a big fan of Sisters of Mercy, of various English bands of their contemporaries as well as several of the bands inspired by them that emerged in the 80s/90s, I became interested in this 'bandography' because I didn't really know much about the band beyond their music and some stories.
I confess that in the first half dozen chapters I was very close to giving up reading. I'm not British, and I only got to know the Sisters in the 90s, so much of what is told in the early chapters, the underground scene in Leeds in the late 70s/early 80s, the places, people, studios, labels, bands, all those names meant nothing to me. However, at some point, I started abstracting from the names and focusing on the situations, and the reading became much more captivating.
The book is a very comprehensive historical record, it is clear that a lot of work has been done, generally the situations portrayed contain accounts from everyone (or almost everyone) involved. Anyone who wants to know everything, or almost everything, about the band's early years, can and should buy this book, as they will be more satisfied and enlightened than they would imagine possible. But for me, this is not even the strongest point of the book.
The book is very intense. I laughed while reading this book, with the antics of the 'Evil Children', with the trouble with Morrissey (how is it possible to get into trouble with Morrissey?) but mainly, I was also deeply moved. The passage about Marx's return, and subsequent cancellation, for a farewell concert, broke my heart. But mainly Eldritch. Eldritch moved me a lot.
I knew little about Eldritch, apart from being a 'prick', treating everyone badly, having a deep contempt for fans, for the audience at concerts (that's why I never went to a Sisters concert). However, the book tells a different story. It tells a story of a chronically depressed person, an out-of-control drug abuser, a person unable to cope with the pressure of recording albums, going on tours. Basically, a person who couldn't handle the pressure, and because of that, had health problems, lost his hair, was on the verge of death, all in his twenties. And sadder still, a person who, by not being able to handle that pressure, ended up distancing himself, hurting, burning all bridges with the people who liked him, supported him, loved him. This was the saddest part of the book, and what really moved me.
Eldritch did not directly participate in this book, apart from some 40 year old quotes. He could have participated, used the book to reconcile with the past, with his once friends. But no, he continues to live in his isolated world, still unable to deal with the pressure, with friends, with the world.
As a music fan, I am very grateful to him.
As a reader of this book, I hope there is a sequel, even if it is not written, and I hope the main character can find peace with his past.
February 6, 2023
Reasonably thorough and engaging biography of the first five-ish years of The Sisters Of Mercy, based mainly on interviews with the key participants, notably Gary Marx. (Eldritch's partner of the time, Leeds DJ Claire Shearsby was also interviewed extensively according to the acknowledgements, although there are far fewer direct quotes from her and little insight into the nature or trajectory of their relationship other than what can be inferred from Eldritch's reported activities.) Oddly, although the book was initially based on an interview with Eldritch about the band's early years, it seems like only the odd quote from Himself features (of which the best are often taken from his bone-dry on-stage remarks), with most of the testimony coming from those around him. This is a shame, as slightly too much of it then revolves around various infantile high jinks and inadvisable substance-related misadventures of the Sisters crew and fanbase; these were, likely through background and lifestyle, generally not people capable of making great decisions. (I pity the poor souls who closely encountered Adams or Hussey on tour in days-old underwear.) Marx at least steps slightly back from the worst of it and has been able to gain some perspective on events. However, the music is well-served, and it did send me back to their albums after too long away (because "Alice" and "Temple Of Love (1992)" will forever Bang).
Ghod knows what Eldritch thinks of it; I suspect the various stories that sometimes make him look callous, spiteful or even pathetic will only add to the mythos. There is some evidence here of the skinny, nerdy and desperately introverted OG Andy Taylor here, but also that which has clearly set him aside from his average follower thirsting to break out from the background: the phenomenal strength of will that has enabled him to recast himself as "Von", a fiercely driven and forbidding leading role which, by all accounts, has entirely subsumed him. (There's an amusing tale of him picking out his new nom-de-plume and seeking opinions of the various options from a studio guy.) Some of the myths are punctured, but to little avail in dispelling the overall mystique - and who would want it otherwise?
My other thought is that Wayne Hussey is somewhat of a chameleon here, albeit a valuable attribute to have as a sideman. He quickly and almost casually assimilated the Sisters style from scratch after joining, but would go on to lift it wholesale after his departure to create a deracinated version for The Mission. It was likely this less cognizant imitation that stuck so badly in Eldritch's craw, almost the reverse of what happened when Roger Waters split from Pink Floyd.
What will pull you up short in the closing chapters is Andrews's statement that, while making Floodland nearly 25 years ago, Eldritch was already halfway through the Sisters recording career to date. "I was wrong to ever doubt, I can get along without" begins to sound eerily elegaic with this realisation, and puts his subsequent withdrawal into perspective. It would be nice to think we could have another volume covering the Floodland/Vision Thing years and beyond, but as this would largely have to depend on Eldritch's perspective - who appears disinclined to spill - it seems unlikely to ever happen. In the meantime, for anyone who ever had even a glancing interest in the band, this book is an evocative record of that short era.
Ghod knows what Eldritch thinks of it; I suspect the various stories that sometimes make him look callous, spiteful or even pathetic will only add to the mythos. There is some evidence here of the skinny, nerdy and desperately introverted OG Andy Taylor here, but also that which has clearly set him aside from his average follower thirsting to break out from the background: the phenomenal strength of will that has enabled him to recast himself as "Von", a fiercely driven and forbidding leading role which, by all accounts, has entirely subsumed him. (There's an amusing tale of him picking out his new nom-de-plume and seeking opinions of the various options from a studio guy.) Some of the myths are punctured, but to little avail in dispelling the overall mystique - and who would want it otherwise?
My other thought is that Wayne Hussey is somewhat of a chameleon here, albeit a valuable attribute to have as a sideman. He quickly and almost casually assimilated the Sisters style from scratch after joining, but would go on to lift it wholesale after his departure to create a deracinated version for The Mission. It was likely this less cognizant imitation that stuck so badly in Eldritch's craw, almost the reverse of what happened when Roger Waters split from Pink Floyd.
What will pull you up short in the closing chapters is Andrews's statement that, while making Floodland nearly 25 years ago, Eldritch was already halfway through the Sisters recording career to date. "I was wrong to ever doubt, I can get along without" begins to sound eerily elegaic with this realisation, and puts his subsequent withdrawal into perspective. It would be nice to think we could have another volume covering the Floodland/Vision Thing years and beyond, but as this would largely have to depend on Eldritch's perspective - who appears disinclined to spill - it seems unlikely to ever happen. In the meantime, for anyone who ever had even a glancing interest in the band, this book is an evocative record of that short era.
February 6, 2022
I enjoyed this, but not quite as much as I thought I would. I'm a fan of the Sisters of Mercy, but certainly wouldn't consider myself as adoring as their cultish following. And whilst I'm still certainly a fan - especially of 'Temple Of Love' - there's something about the slipping of the mask, the dropping of the mystery inherent in Mark Andrews' expose of their formation and the tumultuous descent of their original line-up, that kind of takes away some of their spark.
On the other hand, it is kind of cool to know that, to some extent, behind the pitch-black humour, gothic coaxing and pretension, they were normal blokes from working class Leeds who liked football and going down the pub and pissing about. It's sort of nice to know that, in a band as artful as them, there is a spectre of many of us lingering beneath the surface.
But otherwise, their story as a band is fairly mundane - they started off playing the toilet clubs in Northern Britain in the late 70's, loved Bowie, did too many drugs, egos got in the way etc. There are some great stories in here; altercations with Morrissey, Henry Rollins and outright confrontation of Neo-Nazis among them. But Andrews' writing style isn't especially charming or charismatic; he's a good dealer in facts, but not so much in storytelling. But maybe that's quite fitting for a book of this ilk.
By far and away the most intriguing, engaging, beguiling and problematic aspect of the Sisters is frontman Andy Taylor - or 'Andrew Eldritch', as he would go by for many years. Andrews does actually sum up his condition - and by extension, that of the early incarnation of the band - in a fairly inspired way in the book's epilogue:
'The collision of Andrew William Harvey Taylor - and his persona, Andrew Eldritch - with rock'n'roll defined the Sisters of Mercy and has eclipsed any of the relationships he has had with various band members. The dialectic between Eldritch and his art - whether creative or destructive - has beguiled and bewildered for forty years. It has required stamina from those that have witnessed it: Eldritch has sometimes been a wilful custodian of his own legacy.'
One for the obsessives, I should think, but good all the same.
On the other hand, it is kind of cool to know that, to some extent, behind the pitch-black humour, gothic coaxing and pretension, they were normal blokes from working class Leeds who liked football and going down the pub and pissing about. It's sort of nice to know that, in a band as artful as them, there is a spectre of many of us lingering beneath the surface.
But otherwise, their story as a band is fairly mundane - they started off playing the toilet clubs in Northern Britain in the late 70's, loved Bowie, did too many drugs, egos got in the way etc. There are some great stories in here; altercations with Morrissey, Henry Rollins and outright confrontation of Neo-Nazis among them. But Andrews' writing style isn't especially charming or charismatic; he's a good dealer in facts, but not so much in storytelling. But maybe that's quite fitting for a book of this ilk.
By far and away the most intriguing, engaging, beguiling and problematic aspect of the Sisters is frontman Andy Taylor - or 'Andrew Eldritch', as he would go by for many years. Andrews does actually sum up his condition - and by extension, that of the early incarnation of the band - in a fairly inspired way in the book's epilogue:
'The collision of Andrew William Harvey Taylor - and his persona, Andrew Eldritch - with rock'n'roll defined the Sisters of Mercy and has eclipsed any of the relationships he has had with various band members. The dialectic between Eldritch and his art - whether creative or destructive - has beguiled and bewildered for forty years. It has required stamina from those that have witnessed it: Eldritch has sometimes been a wilful custodian of his own legacy.'
One for the obsessives, I should think, but good all the same.
February 11, 2022
I was exited about this book because The sisters are one of my favorite bands and a definite influence in my music, so I was eager to get my hands on this one. It was fascinating to learn about Andrew Eldritch’s beginnings, of the conception of the band and how raw and organic it was in the beginning. Learning about the other members that helped helm the early versions of the band all the way up to the first record was really enlightening. It helped me understand how crucial those first years were for what eventually became The Sisters of Mercy in their most successful years.
I was however disappointed that it barely made mention of the records that eventually broke “the band” even though by then it was mainly Eldritch calling the shots, I felt that the book was growing into a crescendo towards the reasons behind a song like “This Corrosion” as an answer to what his exbandmates had done by creating The Mission, how that affected everything that had come previously but unfortunately I only got but a glimpse of that in a very summarized way, I feel the story of the band actually becomes really interesting to me at this point of injunction.
I enjoyed it nevertheless, definitely something worth reading for anyone who’s a sisters fan and I praise the author for doing this as (maybe for better than for worst ) finding anything concerning the sisters history has always been and in these times even more so very difficult and escarce. I do like that the sisters have maintained an aura of mystery in an age where attention has become a currency and an economy.
I was however disappointed that it barely made mention of the records that eventually broke “the band” even though by then it was mainly Eldritch calling the shots, I felt that the book was growing into a crescendo towards the reasons behind a song like “This Corrosion” as an answer to what his exbandmates had done by creating The Mission, how that affected everything that had come previously but unfortunately I only got but a glimpse of that in a very summarized way, I feel the story of the band actually becomes really interesting to me at this point of injunction.
I enjoyed it nevertheless, definitely something worth reading for anyone who’s a sisters fan and I praise the author for doing this as (maybe for better than for worst ) finding anything concerning the sisters history has always been and in these times even more so very difficult and escarce. I do like that the sisters have maintained an aura of mystery in an age where attention has become a currency and an economy.
January 3, 2023
Everything you always wanted to know about The Sisters, but were afraid to ask. Mark Andrews does a thorough job of tracking down and interviewing pretty much anyone that came within sniffing distance of The Sisters of Mercy.
These are one of those bands that I like but really knew very little about, since they were around a few years before my time. Andrews manages to take the reader from the early almost Withnail & I days of cold, musty rooms right the way through, via a ton of speed, to the glory that is This Corrosion.
This is packed with stories of people that were actually there and written in a way that places the reader in the back of the freezing-cold van hurtling down the motorway home, or backstage in the dressing room nervously pacing about.
There’s plenty here for even the staunchest Sisters’ fan to find interesting. Such as Marx and Eldritch falsettoing along to Sylvester.
Now we need the book that covers the Floodland and Vision Thing era, since this is fobbed off in a few paragraphs here.
These are one of those bands that I like but really knew very little about, since they were around a few years before my time. Andrews manages to take the reader from the early almost Withnail & I days of cold, musty rooms right the way through, via a ton of speed, to the glory that is This Corrosion.
This is packed with stories of people that were actually there and written in a way that places the reader in the back of the freezing-cold van hurtling down the motorway home, or backstage in the dressing room nervously pacing about.
There’s plenty here for even the staunchest Sisters’ fan to find interesting. Such as Marx and Eldritch falsettoing along to Sylvester.
Now we need the book that covers the Floodland and Vision Thing era, since this is fobbed off in a few paragraphs here.
July 23, 2024
Andrews does a fantastic job of chronicling the formation, eventual success, and ultimate destruction of the Sisters - any fan of the band, or the goth scene as a whole, will find this a fascinating read.
A particular highlight for me personally was the section describing the formation of the band amidst Leeds’ burgeoning punk/post-punk scene in the late 70s/early 80s. You really get a good feel for how and why the subculture thrived in Leeds, and how the Sisters fit into that community and context.
I realise the focus of the book is the ‘rise’ of the Sisters, but I would have loved for the final section of the book to be expanded a bit further - elaborating a bit more on the fallout following the breakup between Eldritch/Hussey/Adams.
Definitely recommend this book to anyone interested in learning more about The Sisters of Mercy, Andrew Eldritch himself, or the early British post-punk/goth scene more broadly.
A particular highlight for me personally was the section describing the formation of the band amidst Leeds’ burgeoning punk/post-punk scene in the late 70s/early 80s. You really get a good feel for how and why the subculture thrived in Leeds, and how the Sisters fit into that community and context.
I realise the focus of the book is the ‘rise’ of the Sisters, but I would have loved for the final section of the book to be expanded a bit further - elaborating a bit more on the fallout following the breakup between Eldritch/Hussey/Adams.
Definitely recommend this book to anyone interested in learning more about The Sisters of Mercy, Andrew Eldritch himself, or the early British post-punk/goth scene more broadly.
December 28, 2023
Huge fan of the band since I was young, so I liked hearing a lot of the nitty gritty of the boys getting started up and their history of course. My only suggestion, well, more note to the writer would be…(and anyone that reads this will see for themselves is) we don’t really need to know everyone’s full name, where they were born and what job they worked that were in the room with the band at such time or place throughout the beginning of it all, haha. For all the sisters fans, enjoy. Fun read nonetheless
April 22, 2023
For true fans of the music. Truly, this is about the rise of the SoM, starting when the band members first meet and going up to (but not including) the recording of Floodland. If you want to hear about the early music, musicians, recording, and tours, this is the book for you. There's definitely some drama, but all band/music-related.
What it made me realize is that I absolutely need a Patricia Morrison book, and wouldn't mind a Claire Shearsby book, either.
What it made me realize is that I absolutely need a Patricia Morrison book, and wouldn't mind a Claire Shearsby book, either.
July 7, 2023
I love the Sisters. The band will always hold a place in my memory of my angst driven teen and early 20s. And i still love to sway and dance to it in love and nostalgia. I am not however so interested in the minutia of how the music was made on the crummiest equipment imaginable. There were brief moments of humor and stories I was interested in. But so much time was spent on the formation that the rest felt rushed
July 9, 2023
Fascinating detail of the early years of this band. The way they wrote, toured, lived and slowly fashioned themselves into a unit, but a unit with a leader, clearly.
It’s written primarily from interviews with the key people of the time, and reflects that. I knew there was acrimony, but this laid it all bare, with the counter views presented, for you to make judgement.
I would have liked it to go on and cover the later years in more detail, but that’s me being greedy.
It’s written primarily from interviews with the key people of the time, and reflects that. I knew there was acrimony, but this laid it all bare, with the counter views presented, for you to make judgement.
I would have liked it to go on and cover the later years in more detail, but that’s me being greedy.
December 22, 2021
Everything you wanted to know about the story of Sister of Mercy and their first years.
It was a fascinating and informative read that brought me back in time and made me discover new sides of this great band.
It's strongly recommended if you want to learn about the early year of SM and its members.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine
It was a fascinating and informative read that brought me back in time and made me discover new sides of this great band.
It's strongly recommended if you want to learn about the early year of SM and its members.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine
January 3, 2024
Having been at the RAH gig in 1985 and recently seeing them in 2023 I decided I didnot know much about the Sisters of Mercy hence the book. The book starts in Leeds and follows the five main years from 1980 to 1985 following the group members,the drugs they take, the housing, the gigs as they become more well known and start releasing their great songs. Great for the fans !
December 27, 2021
An essential read for Sisters of Mercy fans, great detail here
July 15, 2023
Fun, running set of interviews with many involved with the Sisters, Mission and generally across the late 70s/early 80s Leeds scene. If you are a music anthropology reader, this is for you.
January 21, 2024
one of the best music books simply because it mentions andrew eldritch's stage boner, gary marx throwing up on wayne hussey and craig adams calling eldritch a dickhead
a trip
a trip
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 24, 2024
If you’re a fan, it’s a must read (even though you already know how it ends). If you’re not, skip it.
October 13, 2024
Fascinating, and at times funny, history of my second favourite band.
February 11, 2025
The Sisters of Mercy hold a sacred place in the canon and firmament of gothic rock, despite frontman Andrew Eldritch’s insistent they are not goth. “Pain My Name In Black And Gold” tells the story of their formation and early days, a story of unlikely stardom sought relentlessly through speed-fueled frenzies, frenetic hit and miss gigs, sleepless marathon recording sessions fraught with tension and writer’s block, and constant lineup upheavals. Against odds, many of them self-imposed, Eldritch pursued his ultimate goal of ultra-rock stardom with a hell-for-leather abandon, with no plan B and no thought for the toll taken on his own body and mind, or the health and wellbeing of those around him. Somehow out of this terrible crucible, timeless anthems like “This Corrosion” and “Lucretia My Reflection” were born, songs that will drag the oldest crustiest goth from the shadows into the center of the dance floor to this day.
It’s a crying shame that Eldritch somehow climbed to victory over the careers and bodies of his erstwhile band members, friends and colleagues, and the tale of his early shattering after a mind-crushing paranoid isolationist meth binge is a familiar drug story. Equally tragic is that any gig today is quite likely to be a rank disappointment, with cloudy foggy sound mixes and drowned vocals.
Any Sisters enthusiast will appreciate this well-researched and carefully written detailed account of the rise of the Sisters of Mercy.
It’s a crying shame that Eldritch somehow climbed to victory over the careers and bodies of his erstwhile band members, friends and colleagues, and the tale of his early shattering after a mind-crushing paranoid isolationist meth binge is a familiar drug story. Equally tragic is that any gig today is quite likely to be a rank disappointment, with cloudy foggy sound mixes and drowned vocals.
Any Sisters enthusiast will appreciate this well-researched and carefully written detailed account of the rise of the Sisters of Mercy.
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