Goth is dead. That's okay, because it's been dead since about ten minutes after it was invented and none of us care too much. As long as I can cadge a Djarum and a glass of absinthe or a snakebite, the world is gonna keep turning. But goth, being (suitably enough) undead for much longer than the five months or so in 1982 it was was ever really alive in the first place, has strayed far, far from its roots, especially musically.

As truly classic goth music goes, there are giants of the... genre? Style tribe (ugh)? Subculture? Bands even the straights know about. Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Joy Division, The Cure.

And, of course, there's The Sisters of Mercy.

The Sisters of Mercy are not a goth band, and Andrew Eldritch is not goth, according to Andrew Eldritch, and I'm inclined to believe him, but not, I think, for reasons he'd like. The Sisters are not a goth band for the same reason Bauhaus is not a goth band, and Uncle Andy is not a goth for the same reason Siouxsie Sioux is not a goth: Can you say Jesus was a Christian, or Karl Marx a Marxist? The storm is not the flood it causes.

But that's philosophy (and a little bit of blasphemy for flavor): The Sisters of Mercy may not be a goth band by their own lights, but their influence was and is tectonic, and goths love Uncle Andy even if he doesn't love them back. That's fine. Go ahead, Andrew, try to get away. Make Vision Thing, I dare you. We'll have sex with it.

But I'm not talking about Vision Thing today (although I'm glad we're all finally mature enough to admit that it rocks). Today, I'm talking about the First one.

First and Last and Always was not the Sisters' first release but it was their first LP, and arguably the last release of any kind that wasn't entirely Andy's solo affair, and there are two main words to describe it: Tense and libidinous

It's not tense in the way that, say, Never Mind The Bollocks is tense. It doesn't sound like the band is about to fly apart at any moment (even though they were, and did). It's tense in the way a coiled spring is tense, or a clenched fist. There's a power there, but one that's held back, bubbling under the surface, ready to be released. A cobra ready to strike, albeit one that's maybe just a bit too wrecked on whatever drugs cobras take to actually do it.

Similarly, it's not libidinous in the way, say, Lords of Acid is libidinous. It's sexy but in a skin-crawling way. It's frustration and regret at the hookup you missed, or disgust and regret at the one you didn't. At all times, Andrew Eldritch sounds like he's trying to decide whether he's trying to break up with her, or convince her not to break up with him, or take her back to his place, or maybe all three, and not necessarily in an order that makes sense. Between the devil and the deep blue sea.

It's a romantic album, but it's the romanticism of Trainspotting. It's a dark album, but it's the darkness of an alley behind a cheap motel at 3 AM. What it isn't is spooky. The Sisters leave Dracula for other bands; Andrew likes his monsters plainer and dirtier. It's an album that reeks of exhaustion and sweat and clove cigarettes.