The Sisters of Mercy - Homepage of Frans Bonné
The Sisters of Mercy
1980 - ?
© by Frans Bonné,
except for design of logo
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IMPORTANT:
The Sisters of Mercy decided to feature the
On this page I will let you meet The Sisters of Mercy, my favourite group.
Because of the facts that there are more homepages dedicated to them (see the
bottom of this page), I decided that it was no use to provide you with their
lyrics and complete history, I do however want to share with you the CD's
that I have (so you know what actually is there), and the stuff I've
created concerning them, like the searchlight shining on the Merciful
Label above. At this moment there is only one other creation (which you can
find below), but in due time there will be more. By the way, if anyone sends or
has sent me mail, and didn't get an answer within 4 weeks, it's because the mail-
address of the sender isn't correct. I always mail back, no matter what the mail
is about (promise). But for now, I will start with a short story.
Enjoy.
The Sisters of Mercy are a group that was formed in 1980 by two people:
Andrew Eldritch and Gary Marx. The following story is an exact replica of the
story by Andrew in the booklet of the CD "Some girls wander by
mistake":
I had moved to Leeds to learn Chinese, and I was living above the chemist
(as the Mekons put it) with Claire and Spiggy The Cat. One day I dared to set
up the drum kit which someone had stored in the cellar. I still can't play
the drums, but at least I was the only drummer in town who could be relied
upon to avoid anything complicated.
Gary Marx and I knew each other from the F Club. He was a big fan of The Fall.
I was a big fan of Père Ubu, and we both loved The Stooges. Everyboy
loved The Stooges. Gary had no money and no equipment, but he wanted to hear
himself on the radio. So we made a record with no money and no equipment,
and we heard it on the radio. Pressed a thousand copies (thanks to Red Rhino
in York, whose credit we used at the plant), sold a few. Even at the time, it
was hard to get and even harder to listen to. That should have been the end of
it, but...
We hooked up with Craig Adams, probably because he lived above the chemist
too. He was a big fan of Hawkwind and Motorhead, and he had this bass sound
which suddenly defined The Sisters - along with the drum machine, which we
bought because we all loved Suicide. Everybody loved Suicide. The drum
machine became Dr. Avalanche. Gary became a guitar player, and I became the
singer, almost by default.
I think we spent the next few years in the back of a van. When it wasn't
parked above the chemist we were making the loudest noise possible in some of
England's most disgusting clubs. We still had no money and no equipment:
almost everything went towards making the next gig louder than the last.
Thanks are due at this point to Pete Turner, who still mixes the live sound.
He managed to turn a throbbing howl into a shimmering, pulsating machine of
sorts. Some nights you could even hear songs.
I like to think it was the songs that made this band. I know it wasn't. We
used a lot of smoke, very few lights, stepped right back and just made a
space where you could lose yourself (but more probably find yourself) in a
tide of colour and noise. It sounds simple, but no-one that really wanted to
be a rock 'n' roll star could have done it. Apart from anything else, it took
a long time and burned more than a few people out.
The records were never supposed to reflect that experience - it's a different
medium, and one we're still learning. Maybe some of it comes through. Anyway,
in those first four years, when we had the money (and often, we didn't), we
would drop in on Kenny Giles in Bridlington. He had an eight-track and he was
the only person who would help us make records the way we wanted. Thanks Ken.
They may not sound like anybody else's, they may not even sound like records,
but we loved them. For what it's worth.
First and last and always
Floodland
Vision thing
Temple of love (1992)
Some girls wander by mistake
A slight case of overbombing
Some boys wander by mistake