Houston may seem like an odd place for the English dark wave rock band, The Sisters of Mercy, to have a cult following, but it’s not. A nightclub in its inner city, Numbers, has played their songs to hoards of adoring fans for decades. Houston’s obsession with new wave, often british, 80’s and 90’s rock has, in many ways, been facilitated by the dingy nightclub, which, to this day, plays all of its music on vinyl.
Fifteen years have passed since last The Sisters of Mercy toured in the United States; a fact that has created enormous buzz for their return, among goth and punk enthusiasts. Audience dress for Friday’s show included leather corsets, boots, and metal studs but some were more adventurous sporting colorful sequin bodysuits, full costume makeup, and the highest of heels. But many of the concertgoers were more reserved, attending simply to experience the band they’d waited so long to see live.
The band has little to no social media presence and a website straight from 2004. Before the show I couldn’t even find their tour information on their own website. To call The Sisters of Mercy “old school” is somewhat of an understatement. They do not subscribe to modern marketing standards in any way—which, of course, is no surprise. After all, this is the band that famously gave the middle finger to the WEA and the recording industry at large in the early 90’s by halting new releases and only generating revenue via touring. How, then, do they fill venues across the world? Bayou Music Center wasn’t sold out and overflowing but it was a full first floor. It is the mark of true cult rock band to tour whole countries with so little marketing efforts and still fill each venue.
The room was dark and atmospheric. Red, blue, and white light dressed a sparse stage. Perhaps that’s all you need when your music helped define a genre. Andrew Eldritch, The Sisters’ frontman, sang his hits in a veil of fog. His guitarist/bassist, Ben Christo, occasionally stepped out on to the monitor, as did Dylan Smith, the band’s other guitarist and backing vocalist. Ravey Davey, the programer and DJ of the groups percussion (via a series of laptops named “Doctor Avalanche”), sat in the back, doing his thing. But the set felt more reserved than expected. If you strip back the moody fog and dramatic lighting, the sound itself was presented just like their studio recordings. But perhaps that’s the point. It’s darkness and chaos compressed, made consumable, and most importantly, made danceable. And the crowd did just that, from beginning to encore.
Houston’s setlist:
Don’t Drive on Ice
Crash and Burn
Ribbons
Alice
I Will Call You
But Genevieve
Dominion
Mother Russia
Summer
Show Me
Marian
More
Instrumental 86
Doctor Jeep
Detonation Boulevard
Eyes of Caligula
Something Fast
Here
On The Beach
When I’m on Fire
Lucretia My Reflection
Temple of Love
This Corrosion
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