OK, let’s start with the fact that this is a beautiful vinyl issue of an album that was only ever available on CD. Its gatefold packaging is wonderfully done and the 180-gramme vinyl mastering in gorgeous ruby red plastic makes this a collector’s item if you’re a fan of the band.
Compilation albums are always difficult to review because of the very nature of the way they are put together, as one person’s all-time favourite track is another’s exact opposite; and because albums are generally constructed to sound like a uniform whole, compilations always tend to have a slightly disjointed feel. This is especially true if the band in question changed their sound and style over the time they were together, and the Japan album Assemblage springs to mind here.
Kicking off with “Double Dare”, you get all the things that made Bauhaus extraordinary in one visceral track. David J and Kevin Haskins‘s rolling rhythms are stabbed at by Daniel Ash’s splinter guitar sound and Peter Murphy’s howl from the depths of Hades. As this is taken from the band’s first album In The Flat Field, it sounds like a primal scream of a band emerging from a Killing Joke post-punk sound to start heading towards creating something more darker and sublime. The title track from the album follows, full of skittering drums and some of Murphy’s most dramatic vocals.
“The Sanity Assassin” was a fan club-only single release from 1983 and presents a more musically mature band resting on angular David Bowie themes from Scary Monsters, but also keeping the melody in a singalong with one eye on commercial acceptability, which by that point they had achieved. “The Passion Of Lovers” is the single from Mask that should have been a hit with its jaunty rhythm and, double dare I say it, catchy chorus.
“Silent Hedges” from The Sky’s Gone Out is one of my all-time favourite Bauhaus tracks, and for me sums up the sound they were aiming for, with acoustic guitars playing a lilting melody under some great Murphy lyrics, and this is Bauhaus without the bombast. Even when the drums and bass kick in, the track still seems arty and aloof, like a painting in a gallery, and it’s the bands melody and subtlety that carry it off with aplomb. The side finishes with the band’s behemoth, the mighty “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” (apparently this is something called the “Tomb Raider mix”), and my original 12” of this was played to death in the early ’80s, so its hard to have any perspective on it. I am surprised that the energetic live version from Press The Eject And Give Me The Tape wasn’t used on this compilation, as the vibrant performance on that is incredible and shows the band at height of their live power.
If you’re looking for a good overview of the band’s work, then Crackle is a good place to start, especially as the vinyl sounds as wonderful as it looks.
-Gary Parsons-