Bauhaus (band) - Wikipedia
Check out a place where we can meet by Peter Murphy, Matt Seattle Band Vastearth Orchestra on Amazon Music. Stream ad-free or purchase CD's and MP3s. VIP Packages, promotions and special offers for Peter Murphy 40 years of GREET includes: Access to Sound Check, Meet & Greet (with Peter Murphy and. Peter Murphy - God Sends (Letra e música para ouvir) - Of course we can see / From the lipstick that's used / From even the wig that sits / That's all we see of you / I've done it among the many Tell them they'll never meet me . Sobre o site.
That gave me the reassurance and the standing of enjoyment of playfulness and diving in. I am a very contemplative sort of observer type although I'm very sociable and very vocal with a group.
I do live a more withdrawn—not a hermetical or depressive or inverted—lifestyle or personality. I am a very outwardly quiet person.
See, it's difficult to talk from myself because you get these impressions from the exterior of who you are, but my natural sense in comparison to others around me is that my nature is one of contemplation. If I look at my impressions and my thought forms or whatever and then tap into that, something's always there. To answer your question more directly: When I start to write, I don't think of melody or song or form of a musical element. I start to write word for word's sake and play with that as it's happening.
It tends to be very fast and very natural. It's something I do quite easily in a way. It comes very easily to me, very fast. As does the composition of and application of words to a piece of music. I often come up with my vocal compositional elements almost in one or two takes. I can hear it happening as it happens.
It's kind or very much doing that conduit. Musically, I tend to withdraw a bit on that because I never thought of myself as a musician. I didn't learn an instrument but I realized how much musicality I do have.
When I do sit down with an instrument, I can pick it up and even if I've got three or four chords or something. That's enough, in a sense. It's an oh so lovely idea and that's what I think we come from. Brian Eno, those early albums or whatever. Non-sequitur elements of words that that may sound nonsense but it makes sense.
They're not related actually, those songs.
Sometimes writing very quickly, we write deeper. That gives you a vibrancy and a kind of feel that that you do resonate with as you listen. Yeah, the listener's important in the end because you've got to let it go. If you like the analogy of a song being a snapshot in time of a particular idea… Well, when you come to do it live, this approach I'm taking right now—I'm taking very big, symphonic pieces now, often, into bare bones. Which is terrifying, really, for musicians who walk on stage.
I'm not worried about it at all. I just love to be—not on an edge, as it were, in terms of angst… I'm confident that if it's sung again or performed with a certain soul with that intention, it speaks still. You get to revisit those songs. Once you've let them go and they're printed, as it were—a listener has that in his possession—well then live is an entire new chance to do it again, actually. Live, which is, once again, redone, as it were.
Re-performed, as it were. Even though you may not change the structure or the arrangement, it has to be, by definition, rewritten, in a sense. It's a waste of time carbon copying. You might as well ride a bicycle down the road.
It suggests a very different approach to the idea of meaning. When you said that you like to write words for their own sake, for the sound of them— Yes, partly. Once I write, there is a definite consciousness of what I'm writing about. I like to describe it in a way that is—and write it prose-like, almost, I suppose. I've got an abstract mind in that sense. It's not a stylistic strategy to confound the listener. The way that I'm expressing a certain idea that often very unseen notions or ideas or ways of describing something coming from behind rather than straight at a person.
The voicing is important, too. But when I read words alone, often I think, they stand alone. Once they're sung and voiced, that's an entirely different thing. It's kind of… It gives it beauty. It's almost like giving it four dimensions rather than two dimensions, you know. The song, struck me as being a kind of dialog with yourself, about some of the more oblique, or kind of artful, elements of the creative impulse, and the far earthier desire to stand on a stage and do a show for people.
I don't go around looking for critical thinking. It was something that somebody emailed me, just no relation to anything. It was interesting but it talked about how the seers or the shamen or the spiritual martyrs in all societies down the ages have been sort of cloaked in normality. They're cloaked in the mundane. They're hidden, as it were. They're never extrovert in their sort of circle of wisdom or whatever. So, for instance, the joker in the court of the king, the jester, he's the wisest one.
He's actually the closest advisor to the king with his wisdom but he cloaks it in jest, in absurdity.
He cloaks it in a way that is not confrontational and is not attached. I really liked that idea so I thought "the holy clown. It's also a great phrase that works from that more deeper meaning to a much more populist, sort of jestful in a way. You know what I mean?
Something resonates about it. It is a good phrase, good title. Of course, musically, there we go: When I got together with Youth, we had nothing planned. I kind of expected it without meaning to sound big-headed. It's like when we were talking about Amy Winehouse earlier, I understand the fame aspect and that's where a lot of irony comes in, and I embrace it in a way that also tries to remain creatively smart with it.
In all humility, I'm not surprised as if I were a fan and not me I'd want to go to as many of my shows as possible or listen to my music every five seconds. That's how every musician feels about themselves. You go through periods where you're tested as well.
The break-up of bands, lack of a label or funding, there are lean periods. At the same time, I don't see myself as the kind of artist that's limited to a fashion or time.
I think I'm always kind of renewing myself in a way.
Peter Murphy Official Site
What also helps is that I'm not just some tired old studio musician. Playing live is just as, if not more, important to me, and as a result the audiences will always recognise something. I'll take as much criticism as is out there.
I really don't mind. I'm like a whale or a dolphin; I don't mind swimming under the surface while all the loudmouths have their twenty-one minutes - I think it is twenty-one rather than fifteen now in this age of entitlement - of fame. It's almost like saying "You get on with it and I'll do the business". Ninth is your first solo album for seven years since 's Unshattered. Why the long break between records and what rekindled your enthusiasm to make this album?
That's a whole load of energy that I put out for the other guys and wanted to make that work, so there's a whole three-year period where I was purely writing songs for Bauhaus.
So you're claiming Go Away White as your own rather than a four-way collaboration? Well, not totally mine. It was a collaboration but it was more about it clicking towards the last third of it. Remember, we went in without anything. It was a typically conscious decision to start from scratch without any material and record and mix it all at the same time.
We'd just finished touring with Nine Inch Nails and we spent eighteen full days in the studio straight after. I was writing much more than I would normally when it comes to music.
Peter Murphy 40 Years of Bauhaus, Ruby Celebration featuring David J
It is still a Bauhaus album though. I think the heart of the band is Daniel Ash and I in a way. Kevin Haskins and David Jay are very crucial of course as a rhythm section, and there are roles which we all slipped into but there's a lot of baggage, not only from the early Bauhaus years but also from the other band that the other three did throughout, Love And Rockets. You know, there's a whole agenda going on there that I wasn't aware of.
So I think we really started to click and I remember Daniel saying "Now we're getting there! That album is a great statement once you understand the perspective that it was almost created immediately.
There was no planning, no pre-writing, it was all very spontaneous. Then again, it was left unfinished. That's why the final mixes are actually the rough desk mixes, because we pretty much called it a day straight after that. Eight months of touring, writing and recording took its toll, which is very frustrating. Do you ever see yourself working with the other three guys from Bauhaus again?
I was the one who really held out and abdicated. I genuinely believed we had a lot more to give at that time, and in some ways still do. But, having worked with those guys again, there was a miserable British insulation anyway within the band.
We were scared of even talking to each other. We were very repressed and uptight. I don't think we're relevant as a band anymore, actually. I'm quite surprised you say that? I'm relevant, but Bauhaus aren't. Maybe we could still make some good music together, but we couldn't have made a Ninth. That's how Ninth came about in a way, sort of like the after trail of that energy that was still left up in the air in a way.
Rather than wait around for them to do it, I did it myself. It's interesting you say that because some of the lyrics seem quite personal while referencing individual members of Bauhaus. He blurts karma, no sin, the tall one, astute; the ginger all things to all men It's myself I deceive, I got all I asked for". I was sick of being asked why did Bauhaus split up so I thought, "Right, I'll write a song about it and tell them. I do try to be spontaneous rather than anal, very intuitive and give it everything I've got when writing.
Everything, unconditionally, to the point where I'm aware that I'm actually offering myself to people free of charge. But then I would get very disappointed when that same level of commitment wasn't forthcoming from others.
I guess it's very naive to expect that, especially from people I'd worked with in such a wonderfully heroic experience.
Then all of a sudden I thought, "Wait a minute. These people have no idea what's going on". Then I started to understand it was my quality and therefore wrong to expect it of others. So yes, I do get crushed by my dreams, but I'll still dream It's a less gay version of Elton John's 'I'm Still Standing', but I'm totally straight and scary, and I wear make-up and look gorgeous!
I guess the image Bauhaus flaunted in must have raised a few eyebrows back then? We'd get comments like "What are these people wearing? The music press at the time really didn't get us at all. They tried to squeeze us down, destroy us even, which was great because it brought more attention our way.
It didn't need a Malcolm McLaren to hype up some notion of anti-something or construct an attitude. We came along and really did make it by ourselves. Record labels chased us, not the other way round.
Bearing in mind you received little to no radio airplay and there was no Internet to spread the word around, it must have been very organic in a word-of-mouth sense? It was brilliant, and that's what all of us really experienced.
It validated my "I'm already there" notion. I don't think that's recognised enough when people talk about Bauhaus. We did exactly what we wanted. You're working with a guy called David Baron on Ninth, whose production work isn't that well-known outside of his native Woodstock.
How did this collaboration come about and what did he bring to the sessions? I met David through an artist who supported me in called Sarah Fimm. She's a really talented independent female artist who also lives in Woodstock. She invited me over to work on a couple of songs, and the studio she was using Edison was owned by a partnership between Lenny Kravitz and David Baron.
David is more of a backroom person, but just watching him work with Sarah made my intuition tell me "There's the guy for my next record".
Up to that point I didn't even know of him, yet he's very objective and extremely knowledgeable when it comes to music. He knows who The Residents are, he knew everything that Bauhaus did, seemed very clued up about the English music scene as a whole inalmost as a sense of culture. That's what first attracted me to him, and as a result I felt that he could be trusted towards our sensibility. Plus he has this box of telephone-line like plug-in analog processers, which I found quite fascinating.
Once you plug one in you'll get a certain sound, and if you move an inch you'll lose that sound. He's also a very good musician, and he's not a geek either, so I started to hang out with him in Woodstock and ended up living there for three months.
We became really good friends, not only me and David, but also with his wife and children. Sarah Fimm would also be there, and it was quite refreshing watching these young American independent artists that don't quite really get the British indie attitude in that while they were absorbing all the influences they actually turned out something that was remarkably new and awkward.
Another thing which I liked about David was the speed of which he worked; I like to record quite quickly. The album ended up being recorded in seven days and then the whole mixing and mastering process was completed over the next two to three weeks.
Ninth is a very diverse collection of songs, almost impossible to categorise by genre in fact. David and I would sculpt ideas and everything was brought to the table, all written and arranged yet still fluid and open. We decided to really try and capture the band that I'd been working with live for the past seven years.
Rather than hire a bunch of so-called names who'd bugger off halfway through to do other projects, I wanted my band to have their own input with this record.
It was pretty much a case of me throwing them in a room and saying "Here are the materials, build me a house! That's what I'm like, very full of uncertainty and if it's wrong I'll say "That's OK, it'll be right in a minute". History[ edit ] Daniel Ash, his friend David J.
Haskins, and Haskins' younger brother Kevin, had played together in various bands since childhood. One of the longer-lived of these was a band called the Craze, which performed a few times around Northampton in However, The Craze still split up fairly quickly, and Ash once again tried to convince his old school friend Murphy to join him, simply because Ash thought he had the right look for a band.
During their first rehearsal, he co-wrote the song "In the Flat Field". Ash made a point of not inviting David J, the driving force in their previous bands, because he wanted a band he could control. However, within a few weeks Ash relented, and replaced Barber with David J, who suggested the new name Bauhaus With their lineup complete, the band played their first gig at the Cromwell pub in Wellingborough on New Year's Eve Bauhaus associate Graham Bentley said that the group was unlike any Northampton band of the time, most of which played predominantly cover songs.
This approach was hindered partly because many record companies at the time did not have home video equipment, so the group decided to record a demo. NME described it as "Gothick-Romantick pseudo-decadence". Rexas a single. The single reached No.