deep thoughtz 015: 1979-1983 - BAUHAUS

Greetings ladies, fish, and gentlemen! For tonight's venture, we welcome all to explore the exquisite corpse of B A U H A U S yes, we invite all to imagine themselves adorned in black and encourage the indulgences of dark arts, mysticisms, and whatever else may be required, for this group and their legacy can be quite... c o n s u m i n g if one goes exploring in a pretentious or presupposing fashion. 

Now if you were anything like me which is to say you were a snobby brown emotional teenager lost in the middle of the United States you might take a look at a group like Bauhaus and laugh your ASS off at it! This is the legendary Goth?!?! You may laugh, having survived the several waves of emo drudgery and scenester tricks of your peers. You've been familiar with the darker elements of life since a young age by virtue of circumstance, you've seen your fair share of foreign eyeslashin' and mindrapin' horror movies, you think you know a thing or two. Shit you may have even smoked hookah with that one creepy kid's cousin once or twice. You look at Bauhaus, their swooning dark entries laden with nonsensical guitar stings and tribal pounding of the walls, and think what a huge sham. 

Well, reader, if you are anything like me which is to say you're a snobby brown drug-addled adult having found themselves somewhere in the middle of the United States you'll look at that logo, that dreaded face staring down upon you, those damning letters calling to you like they did years ago, like letters to beloved aquaintances down a whiskey-poured alley, that memory lane, then and only THEN shall you know that you have truly engaged with the darkness. And engaged you have, you have battled with the shrieking from the mountains, the scratching at the walls, the braying hounds tearing down your doors, the sheer LAUGH one can have in such situations, oh you remember. You'll remember the lunacy and the nights of dancing and loitering around graveyards and whistling with the wind. You'll remember the lonely sounds of madness that only become decipherable through years of prolonged analysis and solitude, that the quieter melodies only make themselves known through this practice of isolation. You'll feel the bass fill your chest and urge you to MOVE, INHABIT your BODY and actually LIVE in it for once! You'll hear the drums pounding and leading the march of a thousand lost souls like yourself and you'll move with their rhythm only to flow out into your own and occasionally ebb into theirs at your own own damned leisure. You'll remember the songs like they were your own, not just etched into diaries and notebooks throughout years of schooling and education and comeuppance, and I suppose you'll remember how you felt then and you'll damn those songs for making you feel that way but I suppose you'll remember how those songs eased you then like they do now and you'll welcome them as an old friend and not as a scorned lover, and maybe you'll keep them around for now. You'll hear the words and feel them crawl into your NERVES and tattoo themselves as mantras into your persona, hardening and becoming scabs, like shields, for areas left too vulnerable and raw and frayed and you'll let them scab over and become hard because you're too tired of it all. 

You'll hear the call of the wild and... well, reader, if you anything like me you'll know what you'll have done. Now do the St. Vitus dance! DANCE MONKEY DANCE!

Nerves like nylon,

nerves like steel