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Voodoo
Tales from Hawaii as SIOUXSIE and BUDGIE discuss the CREATURES,
Cannibalism and snuff movies, breaking glass and their weird new album
"Feast". Steve Sutherland listens in awe. Tom Sheehan
photographs.
Talking about music is impossible. We can talk all
around it untiI the cows come home, we can get visual or literary or
pseud, but we can't talk about it and do it any justice. A bass drum is
boring. The sound it makes needn't be. What does it sound like? Ah . . .
now there's a question.
And so it was that Budgie and I found ourselves in
much the same boat, ensconced in a Brompton Road wine bar trying to
describe the indescribable, spurred on by our undampened enthusiasm,
dogged by our memories, stretching our imaginations, hoping - hopelessly
- that the spark of our desire to communicate would overcome the
improbability of being able to do so.
"Picture this," he reminisces purposefully.
"Picture sitting at a hotel bar in Waikiki, drinking cocktails and
looking out over this bay, and there's an airplane moving across and the
sun's going down very, very slowly and there's brilliant gold here and
red here and it's black there and it's just all shifting down and you're
sitting there drinking, like you're watching a movie. You can't believe
you're there. You're sitting there thinking 'We're here. We are here
aren't we? Pinch Me!' Now, how can I describe that?"
Picture this: an album of filtered brilliance,
fertile, sensual and erotic; an album that, in its desperate naivety,
attempts to articulate that moment when the monsoon ends, when the smell
and the heat conspire in a perfumed mist and life sprouts instantly,
green and luxurious. The album is called "Feast", the first
from the Creatures, the scent belatedly picked up and pursued from the
hit "Wild Things" EP.
"An eternal keep your passion alive as opposed to
letting it wilt and die away," is how Siouxsie describes it.
Recorded in Hawaii during three weeks working holiday
last January, it's unavailable until May 20. Imagine my impatience. I
want to invite you all round to my place and make you listen to my white
label now. . .no, not make you listen, entice you to, want you to want
to. But I can't. Like Budgie, I'm stuck with words to do my wooing and
words, as Siouxsie warns, are not to be trusted.
"I never want anything to be reviewed as 'my
piece of art'. I feel very proud of everything I've done but I don't
want to talk about my pride because that's somehow deflating it. It's
like if you play a record, you can feel so much from it, but how can you
explain how you felt when you were really high and felt really good
about that record? You have to think about it and almost translate it
into words. That's why I love music, because there's a lot of words in
there that aren't in the dictionary and it's not exclusive to people who
can read and write or know their Roget's Thesaurus or something. It's
the way music is -- not like if you read a book and then you see a film
of that book, it's always disappointing because it's there visually and
you'd imagined something totally different."
So . . . listen to me but don't listen to me.
Picture this: a studio on the jungle's brim previously
used by Crosby, Stills & Nash, Marvin Gaye and Japanese electronic
outfits attracted by the competitive rates. Two Banshees are knuckling
down to work after a New Year's Eve flight that managed to encompass the
midnight celebrations three times.
Budgie is recording the snap of machettied bamboo,
producer Mike Hedges is burning resistors out of the mixing desk,
Siouxsie's crushing ice and four Hawaiian chanters are standing
transfixed, enchanted by the playbacks of their secret, sacred songs.
Slowly, the jarring sounds gell and a song is born -- not a smug,
imperialistic pillage of another ethnic culture, but a wide-eyed
impression of alien surroundings. Not the Banshees' notoriously
considered despatches from the brink, but instant, instinctive reactions
on the way over.
The atmosphere is suffocating humid. Budgie is
sticky and wild-eyed with sweat as Siouxsie starts a homage to the
native lizards. Just then one such lizard, a baby Gecko, creeps over the
carpet and onto her lap. Uncanny.
Picture this: a band of cut-throats, the sort who
would promise you release on condition of some favour and then, the
favour fulfilled, slit your throat anyway - capture a young man and his fiancée. For some reason unspecified they bind the man and threaten his
girlfriend with rape. Whether the brutal deflowering really takes place
is uncertain, but the bandits decide to torture the captive beyond his
sanity by testing and mocking his lover's affection. They litter the
floor with broken bottles and stipulate his life will be spared if the
girl dances and sings barefoot over the shards.
Such is her love that, despite the hopeless futility
of the gesture, she dances her feet into crimson ribbons.
"Dancing On Glass" was inspired by an Indian
musical televised before Christmas as a trailer for Channel 4's season
of classic lndian films. A hymn to Bacchanalian abandonment, it
celebrates the mad irresponsibility of a crazed carnival, oozing with
guile, panting with lust. "Forget tomorrow's mess," governs
Siouxsie, "because right now is the best." Why the advocation
of hedonism?
Siouxsie: "lt goes back to, I dunno, you probably
don't do it but if I get either really happy or really pissed off, I'll smash stuff, mainly glasses. In my own flat -- I won't break anyone
else's. I tend to do it when I'm really whooping it up, when I'm really
happy, playing some music on my stereo and maybe getting a bit drunk and
I'II dance around smashing glasses. I've cut myself quite a lot but
there's no pain because I'm either really up or too aggressive to feel
anything. When I get up I really do get uppy and when I get really (she
knots her face into a tense scowl) . . . like that, as opposed to
strangling someone, it's a real release to just smash glasses. It sounds
crazy, but it works."
Budgie: "Yeah, the rest of us are really good at
ducking now! To get the underlying percussion for 'Dancing On Glass' we
danced on these beautifully designed mirror tiles imported from Seattle,
danced on broken mirrors, just linked arms, almost like a
hoe-down."
Siouxsie: "With shoes on!"
But what about all those years' bad luck?
Budgie: "That's what I was thinking while I was
breaking the mirrors. Y'know, 'Oh fuck-- that's 14 years already!"
Picture this: the Creatures on "Top Of The
Pops".
Siouxsie: "I think maybe a lot of people don't
know who the Creatures are, they've just heard 'Miss The Girl'. There is
a kind of stigma with the Banshees, a lot of people have heard of them
and think, y'know, 'difficult people'. But if you're seen to be having
fun a lot of the time and you get on with everyone, people think you
like the music business which isn't the case. We don't feel that way and
the Banshees is an attitude towards all of what we're involved in. We
hate it, but we want to make this music and we want to be put in the
same arena as all those lions, not separated to a cult audience or
anything, but we're certainly not gonna blend in with that arena.
"The Creatures is not a different attitude, it's
just more relaxed as opposed to having different morals or attitudes.
And, to a certain extent, we've proved a point of how you don't have to
be elitist to be uncompromising".
Are the Creatures a release from the burden of the
Banshees' reputation?
Budgie: "Yes, we're not obliged to do anything.
Having joined the Banshees somewhere along its progression, sometimes it
can be a big weight. It's not a heavy weight but to get away . . .
nobody knows what we should be doing, nobody can say the Creatures
shouldn't do that. There's no binds."
Siouxsie: "I can't put a finger on it. The
Banshees is still the most important thing to me and maybe the fact that
this is not what I'm really fighting for... I'm really into it, but it's
not like the Banshees' 'let's get the bastards' kind of attitude and, in
that way, it's more like playing as opposed to . . . I mean, that makes
the Banshees sound like a jailer or something. It isn't that, it is the
most important thing to me, it's like my life, a way of life almost, but
I'm fed up with the idea that a lot of people like us for the wrong
reasons - 'Ah, they've been in the business' - the business! (she
baulks) - 'six years, they must be able to play their instruments by
now.'
"I hate that. A lot of people commented on the
musical dexterity of 'A Kiss In The Dream House' and I thought 'fuck
off!' Of course we've been playing a lot longer, but our attitudes
towards playing haven't changed one iota, and I suppose that doing
something like the Creatures, it's 'Miss The Girl' - there's no
production!' Damn right there isn't! That's why I wanted to release it,
because I'm sick of all this wall of production coming out at you, it's
really boring and predictable. People aren't taking any risks any more,
aren't pulling things out."
Budgie: "It's like me playing the marimba. I
can't play a marimba to save my life if you like, but I used it. I
watched a guy on television last night, on 'Loose Talk', playing a
vibraphone in the known, accepted way. That's really good, really
admirable, y'know. I don't want to be admirable, I don't want to be
respected."
Siouxsie: "You do but not in that way. It's like
people laughing with you as opposed to at you. I want respect but I
don't want to be treated as a superhuman being. It's not that pompous at
all. It's like, when we were in Australia, I couldn't stand the way it
was obviously so racist against the Aborigines. It's almost like I'd
feel the same way if I was a suffragette way back then, I'd be chaining
myself to the walls and really screaming at those people that were being
so unreasonable and pig-headed about how superior they were. I can't
stand the idea that it goes on . . .that's not respect, that's just
being treated like you're not senseless or you're not a primitive
being."
But they don't come much more unapproachable than your
image.
Siouxsie: "That works in that it cuts out a lot
of the crap. I mean -- can you believe it? -- I've done photo-sessions
with guys going, y'know, 'lovely, lovely, lovely'. They don't do it to
me anymore, they won't do it because they know I'II probably throw a
bottle at them."
All the same, it's the fantasy element in the Banshees
and, perhaps, in the Creatures, that puts some people off. They see it
as an act, role-playing rather than any expression of true personality.
Is what you do ever pure emotion or reaction as opposed to calculated
image?
Siouxsie: "I know what you mean. I think there's
an element in the Banshees of wanting to project what the Banshees are
so, therefore, it's something blown up that is definitely a part of you,
but it's the part you want to project. Y'know, it's the idea of, like,
being in a pub and cute little people come up to you and want autographs
and, thinking of my reputation, the first thing I should do is slap 'em
round the face and tell 'em to fuck off. And I've done that -- well, I
haven't done exactly that, but I've been like that sometimes, not
because of an impression I wanna make, but because of a mood."
The Creatures seem to find it easier than the Banshees
to laugh in public.
Budgie: "There is humour in the Banshees, we
laugh up our sleeves, but this is like telling a joke almost."
"Gecko" is a carefree song, something the
Banshees, as yet, seem unable or reluctant to write.
Siouxsie: "Yeah, again I know what you mean,
simply happy -- happy for happy's sake. It's a different way of working;
I'm not saying 'the Banshees ugh eek', but sometimes working within four
people is like such a monster, it's become a real fuckin' 11-headed
monster. But, like, I always think 'Cocoon' off 'A Kiss In The Dream
House' sounds really happy but, again, the lyrics are a bit odd, they
grate against the sound of the music. I think that's something we're
good at, subverting lyrics."
Talking of subversion, I still marvel at your
deviousness, sneaking that line about conquering orifices in
"Arabian Knights" and the one about frozen balls in
"Mad-Eyed Screamer" past the censors, though I hear the
"Miss The Girl" video is unofficially banned. Considering your
reluctance to censor yourselves, our chances of seeing it seem pretty
slim. Tell me about it.
Budgie: "lt's just the two of us in a thing that
we built which is mostly metal with nails sticking out of it, with
dangerous elements in it and the play off of flesh against elements of
spikes and metal. You might get your hand caught in this wheel as it
turns round. Plus we threw in a couple of staged slaps..."
Siouxsie: "John Waynes! Really, we should have
just done a horror film with my eyeball going into a nail. We could have
gone to town if we'd wanted to shock people, but still one guy at the
'Switch' doesn't think it's suitable for the viewers. I hate these
programmes that are supposed to be alternative music programmes, the
voice of the youth. This is turning into a 'Switch' bitch . . . "
Picture this: an eerie convalescent home run by a
brother and sister who dress in a certain colour identical to some
extraordinary, self-perpetuating, interbred flowers that tower above an
old ice-house at the bottom of the garden. A new inmate, curious to
assimilate his surroundings and unaccustomed to the home's routines and
rituals, is perturbed by what he thinks he sees and begins to fear what
he senses. He suspects the home's other inhabitants are under some
strange intoxication, some spell spread by the Aphrodisiac blossoms and
while browsing, feverish with trepidation, the newcomer glimpses bodies
frozen in the ice. His claims are discredited as hallucinations.
After periods of will-sapping insomnia and troubled
sleep-walking, the newcomer wakes shivering in the night to discover a
hole in the window, perfectly flower-shaped as if a solitary bloom had
somehow entered and touched him. Finally the newcomer is led down the
garden to the ice-house and enters voluntarily, the door closing behind
him,
By an odd coincidence, both Siouxsie and Budgie caught
the same TV play at home in London and were intrigued enough to carry
its germ io Hawaii where the pod slit under the strange sensory ambush
of the tropical climate.
They were recording "Icehouse" before they
knew what they were doing.
Picture this: Her eyes meet his across the crowded
room and, in that instant, they are alone, oblivious to chatter around
them. Helplessly drawn towards each other, they are entranced,
spellbound, as if, for the first time, forever, they realise the power
of love. He catches her hand and she feels she must faint as, in a dark
brown voice, he says, "My names' Budgie, what's yours?"
"Siouxsie," she replies in a whisper, her
cheeks flaming like fire. He tells her she's the most beautiful girl
he's ever seen but, as midnight tolls, she tears herself away and
vanishes in the direction of the ladies. Two days later, sleepless in
his search, he tracks her down to the orphanage and claims her as his
bride. And they both live happily ever after.
Fat chance!
Come on Siouxsie, don't be a spoilsport. Why should
'Miss The Girl' be so cynical? Why have you never written a fulfilled
love song? Don't you believe that people can actually . . .
"Not permanently, no. It's something that I wish
people would accept. I see it all around me, people tearing their hair
out -- 'Oh, we've split up! I knew him for so long and he just suddenly
changed!' It's not negative to accept it. You shouldn't cling onto
something -- it's like a lot of musicians cling onto their way of doing
something and they'll never change because they know that it's their hit
formula whereas, in the end, they'll just die a slow death.
"It's horrible to see, whether it be when I was
really young seeing other people's mums and dads or now, seeing young
couples living together, how they actually really abuse each other and
take each other for granted. Why can't you live it up for . . . be a
butterfly, really be blossoming for that long and not try to make it
linger and go grey? I don't think that's negative. I could think
'there's only one person I'll ever love' -- fine, but then, you accept
that probably you won't want to live with each other forever.
"Like, if you play a record that often, you'll
get sick of it; if you watch a film i that often, you'll get sick of it;
if you're with that person that often, you'll get sick of it. I think if
you really care about someone, even if you don't want to, you should
actually put some discipline in -- 'I really wanna be there but no, I
wanna feel that emotion every time I see you as opposed to getting used
to you."
So you won't succumb to pop's glib illusion - kiss me
quick or woe is me?
Siouxsie: "It's too black and white, it's like
yes or no. I don't think it is ever yes or no."
Budgie: "It's too interesting, it's too
wonderful.. People's relationships are too special to be anaesthetic in
that way."
Picture this: "I get invited to a lot of
happening parties man and, at a certain party, they were showing snuff
videos of cock amputations and things like that. I'd heard a lot about
snuff videos, girls from the Third World being used because they're not
as revered as the sons who carry on the family name, so the daughters
are sold and used for snuff movies.
"I didn't want to call it 'Snuff' because I
didn't want it to be that sensationalistic, but it was something that I
was disgusted about. I bumped into a friend a few years ago and he told
me, in Italy they're not bootlegs, you can actually go to a cinema and
see a snuff film and, in this particular one he was talking about, were
these young girls.
"Maybe they'd been told 'you're going to be in a
bit of a saucy film' -- these 14 year-old girls, bare-chested with not
much on at all who couldn't understand the language anyway. And it
happened in a primitive situation, like huts and primitives with spears,
and in one scene these guys invaded the camp and he said he'll never
forget the total shock, the genuine shock on a girl's face as a spear is
rammed up her and slit upwards, and it's all on film and it's real and
it's happening and a lot of rich people, the idle rich -- I'm not
putting down rich people because a lot of rich people do something with
their money -- but these bores, these fuckin' bores, to get kicks, have
to watch something like this!
"They could read about it -- many fantasy things
can be repellent in real life, everyone thinks of horrible things,
everyone thinks 'Oh, the worst torture would be...oooh, wouldn't it be
awful!' You think it, but the idea of wanting to see it is
disgusting."
"Flesh" is crude, cruelly vindictive, the
victim's revenge, voyeuristic eavesdropping on a party pissed on punch,
feigning dispassion, equating human traits with brutish animal
instincts. Unbearably, relentlessly claustrophobic, it refuses to
acknowledge the convenient civilised distinction between safety in
numbers and dumb, easily-led mob rule.
Budgie: "Less pointedly, it's like going to a
party where nobody wants to appear unhip or uncool so everybody laughs
at the same jokes and goes 'ho ho, yes, because he's the host, isn't it
wonderful he's doing that, shitting on the carpet'."
Picture this: Budgie wakes up to a late, chill Spring
morning struggling with a pounding hangover. He turns on LBC Radio and
the man with the painfully muzzy voice is going on about an adoption
scheme at Regents' Park Zoo where you can sponsor the upkeep of an
animal for a year. The man mentions that nobody seems interested in
taking up the patronage of the peccary, a bristling pig-like animal
reputed to stink to high heaven.
Budgie, not feeling exactly tip-top himself,
sympathises and that's how come we're standing here, just below the bear
pit, making comforting noises at the much-maligned beast. Adoption duly
decided and a name, Gregory Peccary, established, it seemed pertinent to
point out the contradiction between Siouxsie's partiality to black
leather and her obvious affection for most critters great and small.
Siouxsie: "lf I had to kill my meat, I wouldn't
eat it. I just can't stand cruelty. Robert Smith (full-time Cure,
part-time Banshee and currently recording and album with Steve Severin
as The Glove) was at home in Crawley and some guy gave him a 'horror'
videotape and it turned out to be a whole film about different types of
abattoir. He said he couldn't watch it - I mean, there's guys who don't
just do it quick...y'know, they want job satisfaction so they toy with
the animals and cut them to pieces before they kill them, or skin them
alive and laugh about them wriggling. The film showed these Chinese
tables with holes in the middle where they put live monkey's heads up
through and just crack 'em and eat their brains while they're still
alive. I could never do that!"
I'm glad to hear it.
Siouxsie: "But then again, I'm not averse to
being a cannibal. Y'know there are a lot of wanky people that die or get
killed...but then, if I was served up someone that I hated, I don't
suppose I'd want to eat them anyway."
PICTURE this: innocence, energy, humility and wonder
rediscovered after half a decade in the thick of the most debauched,
spoiled and morally bankrupt business in the world. An insistence that
there is another way -- maybe myriad other ways -- than selling spirit
and soul to corporate taste.
If, with "A Kiss In The Dream House", the
Banshees made magnificent mountains out of molehills, the building of
those molehills more awesome and alarming than anybody else even dared
contemplate last year, then "Feast" leaps from the top, giddy
and free and foolish enough to believe that, with ballast shifted,
breath held and senses alert, it has chanced, momentarily, upon the
secret of flight.
Paradise reglimpsed.
Steve Sutherland 14/05/83
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