As I mentioned back in this relatively ancient post, there are a number of songs that are otherwise in no discernible way Christmassy that I, for one reason or another, cannot stop myself from associating with the holiday in question. One of those, of course, was “This Corrosion” by the mighty Sisters of Mercy. Though ostensibly because I first got ahold of Floodland, the LP that spawned the epic single, during a Thanksgiving break just prior to the Christmas season of 1987, the giddily histrionic track does indeed feature a soaring chorale opener, which remains just …er… churchy enough to conjure images of Noel, if an incongruously post-apocalyptic one.
In any event, I posted the woefully absurd video for same on my Facebook page the other day, alluding to its tenuous Yuletide associations, and that sort of jump-started me on a veritable Sisters kick. As such, I unearthed some of my other favorites by the band, citing the one below that started it all for me, that being “Walk Away” off their first proper LP, 1985’s First and Last and Always.
As I prefaced on Facebook, this was the video that convinced me that, under no circumstances should you ever remove your sunglasses and that there simply was not enough black in my wardrobe. It was that cool.
To my surprise, however, the particular version I ended up posting was not, in fact, the same video I first saw in 1985, but rather an alternate or seemingly unedited take. And for a devout Sisters fan like myself (and I’m sure there’s a few others like me out there), it’s something of a revelation.
While renowned for their deathly palor and icy inaccessibility, the Sisters of Mercy did have a sense of humor. While possibly not readily apparent with only a cursory listen, their music wasn’t strictly all doom and gloom. In a live context, early Sisters gigs came punctuated with cover versions. I still have a recording of them playing a heroically unlikely cover of “Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)” by Abba, for chrissakes.
Upon being labelled a “goth” band, Sister Superior Andrew Eldritch used to wearily demure and obliquely suggest that the band was actually more of a send-up of irresponsible rock excess, a cartoonish embodiment of well-worn cliché, amplified for maximum absurdity. Obviously, not everyone got the joke.
The original video for “Walk Away” was a tour de force of quick cuts of Andrew and the boys suitably lurking about in a thick, laser-pierced gloaming, like mourners from a funeral in another dimension. This version, however, comes bereft of the dignity-preserving cuts and just presents the band waffling about in the dry-ice, gormlessly dancing in a manner that suggests a heroically strenuous shortage of fucks to give.
It’s glorious. Play it and do the wavy arm dance.
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