Welcome back my friends, to the flamboyance that never ends, as Fabulously Flamboyant Friday proudly presents yet another light-loafered, lubed-up, luxuriant leap over the gasworks-end puddles of musical magnificence.
Tonight, dear reader (inspired by Adolfo Fartini and his timely posting of tonight’s first artiste) we shall don our finest fishnets and black lace, pull on our clumpy black bondage boots and artfully smear our reddest of blood-red lipstick (lady Puffins as well, please) to take a fond look back at the late ’70s emergence of the magnificently moody musical melange of what would eventually become known as Goth Rock – Not Arf!
And, by the way, all of tonight’s featured videos are Puffin picks, so thank you one and all for your kind suggestions and generous input.
Broadly speaking, the Gothic aesthetic, originally known as the barbarous Germanic style, dates back to the 12th century and the emergence of pointy arches, ribbed vaults, big-arsed buttresses and spiky bottom-bursting pinnacles, etc. The name originates from the rough and ready – and thoroughly beastly – Germanic tribes who gave the troops of the Roman Empire a proper belt-off, trousers-down, arse spanking in the early centuries of the Christian era. Their name later became a descriptive term attached to architecture, music, paintings, poetry, literature and several other art forms, but doesn’t seem to have become associated with popular recorded music until the late 1960’s*.
*I have to specify recorded pop music here before Uppers starts banging on about Shostakovich, Berg, Schoenberg and (a personal favourite of mine) Havergal Brian and his truly mahoosive Gothic Symphony (Symphony No.1 in D minor).
The roots of Goth Rock can probably be traced back to 1967, when the music critic and journalist, John Stickney, began using the term “Gothic rock” to describe the music of US-based artists like The Doors and The Velvet Underground. Stickney wanted to highlight the contrast between the happy-clappy, sunshine and flowers hippy nonsense of the late ’60s (particularly on the US west coast) and the darker, troubled, and at times even grotesque, themes associated with lyricists such as Lou Reed, Jim Morrison and, of course, the rather splendid coterie musicians associated with them.
Stickney’s usage of the term was certainly noted, but didn’t really catch on, and a modern Gothic musical subculture didn’t really establish itself in the US as any sort of recognised genre. As a result, the term more-or-less lapsed into disuse until it finally began to re-emerge in the UK as the descriptor for a significant shift in the musical landscape during the post-punk era of the late 1970s and early ’80s.
Punk rock had arrived in the mid-70s and done the decent thing: it stormed in, spraying spittle and fury in all directions, kicked over the tables, cleared out the musical deadwood, then politely stepped aside (burned itself out, to be honest) to leave enough open ground for fresh musical ideas and new artistic directions (e.g. synth pop, new wave, post-punk, new romantics, Phil Collins, Bucks Fizz, etc.) to establish themselves, take root and eventually flourish. And tonight we’ll take a look at one of the darker outcrops of that burgeoning late ’70s new wave scene – Goth Rock.
And I think we probably need to start with the emergence of artists such as Siouxsie and the Banshees, Joy Division, The Cure, Magazine and a fair few others. Because, as these bands began to grow in popularity, punters and music journalists alike soon began to notice a new, dark and broodingly moody aesthetic in a number of these up-and-coming late 70s bands and artists.
At first, lacking the cognitive framework needed to process, articulate and describe what they were hearing and seeing, music journalists seemed unsure of the approach they needed to take with these new developments. It certainly wasn’t rock ‘n’ roll or punk rock, it wasn’t safe and chirpy enough to be pop, it wasn’t heavy, scary or satanic enough to file alongside the likes of Black Sabbath, but it was clearly something new, gloomy and different.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, and particularly because these artists were clearly associated with the post-punk / new wave scene, the term “dark wave” was coined and soon started to crop up in the music press. That’s not too bad a descriptor, to be honest, but it never really caught on and never became a popular term for the genre.
And then, enter stage left, the UK music journalist Nick Kent (best known for his scribblings at New Musical Express, for being attacked with a bicycle chain by Sid Vicious, for penning a rather splendid memoir called Apathy for the Devil (one I am happy to commend to the house) and for allegedly being the lucky bugger who was *ahem* knowing Chrissie Hynde when she first rocked up in the UK) and his 1978 NME review of a Siouxsie and the Banshees gig which said that “parallels and comparisons can now be drawn with Gothic rock architects like the Doors [and] early Velvet Underground”. Well said that chain-battered chap! His timing was perfect, the term was apposite, and this time it well and truly stuck.
Others have credited the invention of the Goth Rock term to Anthony William, the manager of Joy Division. Nevertheless, no matter who was responsible, soon after this term was re-introduced to our contemporary musical lexicon, the band Bauhaus released their landmark single, Bela Lugosi’s Dead, and this, for many, was the key turning point – a point that marked the beginning of the gloomy stage antics and dark theatrics that soon came to be associated with the classic Goth Rock scene.
The sight of Pete Murphy, the Bauhaus frontman, dressed in Vampire-esque stage clobber, hiding behind a theatrical cape, banging on about Bela Lugosi being both dead and undead, became quite an iconic and influential image; and, after the Bauhaus single became a substantial hit, the Goth Rock milieu seemed to emerge from the spooky dry ice to finally coalesce and fully take shape.
In truth, Murphy’s performance was all rather camp, lightweight and, quite frankly, a little bit silly, but it really did seem to capture both the mood and moment. Soon most, but certainly not all, of the bands associated with this nascent scene began to incorporate dramatic and gloomy fashion and theatrics into their live performances and – just like that – the journalists had their cognitive framework, the fashionistas had their iconic look, and the Goth Rock scene was officially up and running. Before you could say “release Aiso from the crypt”, the airways were full of angst, existentialism, dark romance, the poetic literature of death, vampires, ghosts, ghouls, and sundry slithery creatures of the damp and foetid, fearful night – and of course, Rentaghost was on TV.
However, for me at least, although Bauhaus usually get the credit for kickstarting the genre, it was Siouxsie and the Banshees that did the hard yards, laid the foundations of the genre, and set out a rough and ready template upon which others would quickly build. The 1978 release of their album Scream was undoubtedly a key moment for the genre: the angst of punk, the proto-Goth look, the melodic approachability of pop; but dark and brooding, with a gloomy intensity, prone to sudden and unexpected twists and turns. Add in a mesmeric singer who, as contemporary interviews clearly demonstrate, seriously couldn’t give a toss about what anyone thought about her or the band’s musical output, and you have a landmark release that, for me at least, produced a genuine change in the post-punk musical landscape.
Of course, for many aficionados of the Goth scene, the essence of the genre was contained within the fashion and theatrics, as much as the music – and not just the artists, but for the fans as well. And because of this, I think we need to acknowledge the influence of Goth Clubs and the fashion-conscious punters who lurked within. One of the most famous of these clubs (and certainly one of the most influential) was the legendary Bat Cave, which opened in the early 1980s in the then very seedy Soho area of London.
Starting as a Wednesday night event at the Gargoyle Club in Dean Street (it later moved around quite a bit), the Bat Cave was the kind of nightclub where you could easily bump into Siouxsie Sioux, Robert Smith, Nick Cave, Pete Murphy, many other Goth Rock luminaries and – crucially for the development of the fledgling genre – various music journalists as well. As a result, The Bat Cave quickly established itself as one of the most fashionable nightclubs in the UK, proved to be a hugely influential venue and was soon inspiring the emergence of copy-cat establishments throughout the country.
Many have described the influence of this nightclub as foundational to the development of Goth Rock. However, the journalist Michael Johnson is less sure. In his view, the nightclub was absolutely central to the development of the genre’s sense of style and fashion, and certainly helped to raise the genre’s public profile, but he also argues it had very little impact upon the development and musical direction of Goth Rock itself. I must admit, I tend to agree.
Nevertheless, Goth Rock was certainly making headlines, and, driven by a successful second wave of emerging artists (e.g. The Sisters of Mercy, Fields of the Nephilim, the Mission and, of course, Southern Death Cult, who were soon to become known simply as The Cult) it eventually and inevitably broke out of its underground ghetto, embraced the MTV revolution and hit the mainstream in both Europe and North America. By the late 80s, American nightclubs were embracing the idea of Goth nights and an emerging U.S. Goth Rock scene was soon producing a string of their very own bands and artists.
The U.S. also gave us the early ’90s phenomenon of “Mall Goth” (as in shopping mall). This was a largely pejorative term applied by aficionados of Goth Rock to individuals they perceived as being “plastic Goths”, i.e. primarily interested in Goth fashion rather than Goth music. The suggestion was that these were kids quite happy to spend their time looking cool and moody whilst shopping in malls, but were not particularly interested in listening to Goth Rock music or attending Goth Rock events, and who in fact were largely clueless when it came to the culture they were seen as so cynically appropriating for their own shallow ends (i.e. all the gear but no idea).
Valid criticism or not, the Mall Goth scene seemed entirely untroubled by these cruel accusations, embraced the insult and simply went from strength to strength. The Mall Goth scene would eventually produce and support the popularity of artists such as Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Type O Negative and Evanescence, as well as nu-metal bands such as Korn and Slipknot, and even industrial metal bands such as Rammstein – so I, dear reader, given what was eventually produced, have absolutely no problem with the much maligned ’90s Mall Rock scene.
Today, the Goth music scene is alive and well and in very rude health. It has, however, fractured into more sub-genres than you could possibly shake a stick at: Cyber Goth, Shock Rock, Industrial Metal, Gothic Metal, Gothic Punk, Medieval Gothic Folk Metal (seriously?), Horror Punk, Nu Goth, our old friend Dark Wave and probably many more besides. I would of course expand upon and explain the subtle differences and musical nuances of these various descendants and fragmentary facets of the original Goth Rock scene if I possibly could. But I fear, dear reader, that such esoteric wisdom is beyond my ken and (as an old and decrepit fart) way beyond my patience.
However, Puffins wise in the ways of Goth Rock will no doubt have noticed there is a key figure in the development of the original late-70s Goth Rock scene whose central and vital influence I have not yet addressed. Well, we shall now correct that omission. I am of course speaking about the talented but tragic figure of Ian Curtis, the hugely influential vocalist and primary songwriter of the iconic band, Joy Division.
Curtis was a seriously talented chap, but unfortunately suffered from both epilepsy and severe depression. He sadly died in 1980, by his own hand, on the eve of Joy Division’s first North American tour. The band had released just two albums, Unknown Pleasures (1979) and Closer (1980), and they are both central to and hugely influential in the development of the Goth Rock scene. They also happen to be truly wonderful albums that, along with Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Scream (1978), form, for me at least, the essential core and musical foundation upon which everything that followed in the Goth Rock oeuvre was built.
So I think it’s only fitting that we wrap things up for this evening with a rather bleak and poignant video of Decades, the closing track from Closer, Joy Division’s magnificent second and, sadly, final studio album.
My goodness, things suddenly (but appropriately, I guess) seem to have become a bit glum, somewhat dark and bleak and grim. Therefore, before I become a full-on Friday Night Debbie Downer, I think it’s high time I said something suitable along the lines of, “well that’s probably quite enough of my Gothic gobshitery for one evening, so I shall say TTFN to one and all”.
So may all your passages be salubrious, your gardens inclined and your puddles well jumped.
Goodnight and may your Frog go with you – Not Arf!
Featured Image: Bela Lugosi as Dracula. Screenshot from “Internet Archive” of the movie Dracula (1931), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
© Ivory Cutlery 2026
