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BAUHAUS
Scary monsters?

In the years after the Nottingham-born band Bauhaus called it quits, it became easy for all but the most fervent fans to write them off as a post-punk anomaly: a stylized, pretentious group of black-clad Brits masquerading as vampires or something. They did a mean cover of Bowie’s "Ziggy Stardust," but that only confirmed the dire absence of hooks in the rest of their material. Even if guitarist Daniel Ash and bassist David J (along with David’s brother Kevin Haskins) seemed to loosen up a bit as Love and Rockets, they never seemed essential. And singer Peter Murphy’s solo career only confirmed that he was just another Bryan Ferry–style crooner who’d never be in Bowie’s league. As for the band’s 1998 reunion, 15 years after they’d called it quits, at first it only confirmed my worst suspicions: they were a goth band for heavily made-up goth kids in rubber and leather — scary monsters for scary kids.

Being wrong can be a wonderful thing. By last Sunday night, when, having missed Halloween by a couple of weeks, Bauhaus filled the Orpheum, I’d already been through their seminal recordings and given myself a good talking to. Yes, they were saddled with the goth tag early on. But those albums — In the Flat Field (1980), Mask (1981), The Sky’s Gone Out (1982), and Burning from the Inside (1983) — stood up proudly against all the biggies in post-punk England, from Joy Division to the early Cure to Siouxsie and her Banshees. Hard, driving, occasionally funk-inflected bass lines, surprisingly subtle drumming, and guitar that presaged Keith Levine’s sheets of dischord framed a voice that, though indebted to Bowie, was finding its own direction. So think of the current Bauhaus tour as a chance to set things straight: once you get beyond the black clothes and the make-up, it’s hard to fault the avant-rockist punch of "Kick in the Eye" or "Hair of the Dog" (not eye of the newt). One glam-rock encore — "Ziggy" plus T-Rex’s "Telegram Sam" — reminded us where Bauhaus really came from. Another — an extended "Bela Lugosi’s Dead," replete with dubby rim-shot echoes — sealed the deal. Any young band who start their career with a song that dynamically and rhythmically complex deserve more props than I thought I’d ever be giving Bauhaus.

BY MATT ASHARE

Issue Date: November 18 - 24, 2005
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