In the early 1980s a new musical genre appeared: Goth. Young people, dressed in black, listening to and playing post-punk music could be spotted in the city’s streets. But did you know that Goth started in Leeds? We investigate further.
Introductions by Richard Clarkson
Interviews by Richard Clarkson, Morticia, Ruth Steinberg, Mark Silver and Angie Smiles.
Pictures by Joanthan Turner, Ann Louise Quinton and Sandra Grande
Often, Northern cities have been home of different musical genres – think of Merseybeat in Liverpool in the 1960s or Madchester in the 1990s. But what about Leeds? According to music historian Mark Silver, “Leeds is the birthplace of Goth.” It’s Mark’s contention that Goth started in our city. He can even pinpoint the birth of the Goth scene to a particular date in 1983. Some may argue with Marks’ conviction, but it’s certainly true that Leeds and Goth are uniquely intertwined…
I came to study at Leeds University in September 1981. Leeds was starting to recover from the horror of the Ripper era; it was a city facing a host of problems. Not surprisingly the ‘81 enrolments were the record lowest for female students. That season the slow decline of Leeds United from the ‘Revie Glory years’ culminated in relegation from the first division. Leeds had branded itself the Motorway City of the 70s – but that moniker ended with the 1979 Oil crisis. The Winter of Discontent of was followed by the election of Margaret Thatcher. Unemployment soared to 3 million. Riots came to Chapeltown in the summer of 1981. The city's failed mass housing solutions for its citizens were demolished with Quarry Hill in 1978 and Hunslet Grange in 1983. The development of a modern, futuristic Leeds seemed in retreat.
By ’81, the punk rock wave (which had picked me and carried me along with it) had long since passed by and the first post punk bands were already making it big or dying off. Some Leeds post-punk groups were formed: The Mekons, Delta 5, The 3 Johns and the Gang of Four. Most notably this clutch of bands was formed amongst the art student crowd; and it was at the Leeds Polytechnic Common Room that John Keenan started his music night. After being cancelled there, he christened it the “F-Club” (Fuck The Poly), moving (via Woodhouse and Chapeltown) to Brannigans on Call Lane. The F-Club kept the Leeds punk and alternative music scene alive, showcasing a steady stream of live acts, and the Futurama Festival. “I think the amazing Leeds music scene existed because of John Keenan creating opportunities for bands to play,” says Ann Louse, who was around at the time. “I know he wasn't the only one, but John was utterly committed to the scene and getting live music out there.”
Equally important was the music of DJ Claire Shearsby, one of the first female DJs. Claire branched out to start a punk/alternative night at The Phono on a Wednesday night and later the famous Saturday lunchtime sessions. The Phono formed the nucleus of the early Leeds Alternative scene along with the Warehouse, (which opened in 1979) and the Faversham Arms, a pub adjacent to the University Campus. The Sisters of Mercy, The March Violets and the heavy guitars and a driving drum machine beat sound that would become known as Goth, came from this Leeds alternative scene of The F Club, The Phono, Warehouse and the Faversham. The drum machine was such a part of The Sisters’ sound that it had its own name – “Doktor Avalanche”. Their post-punk uniform of leather jackets, black jeans, and clothes and back-combed hair and heavy make-up would become the ‘Uniform look’ of the Goth sub-culture.
I count myself to be lucky to have been around at the birth of this scene and to have seen these bands and danced and drank at these fabled venues. I was taken back in time when we talked to key players in the Goth scene and to other Goth fans from Leeds.
THE BANDS
In the early 1980s a number of bands formed in Leeds, most notably The Sisters of Mercy. They went on to have global fame and still tour (in a different form) today. Scores of other bands started in the city at the same time, buoyed by the Sisters’ success.
Rosie Garland was one of the dual vocalists in the band The March Violets, a Goth band who formed in Leeds in 1981 and contemporaries with The Sisters of Mercy. Their first single, Religious As Hell was released on The Sisters’ Merciful Release label. Other singles included Crow Baby, Grooving in Green and Snake Dance.
Danny Mass was the lead singer of post-punk/Goth band Salvation which formed in Leeds in the early 1980s. Danny was part of the Goth scene and as well as his career with Salvation worked with The Sisters and roadied for them on their early tours before Salvation became full time.
Rosie
When I came to Leeds in 78, there was no such thing called Goth. There was the excitement of being part of a scene that didn't have a name. I just knew it was what we were doing. The name came later. I didn't move to Leeds because it was Goth. I moved to Leeds because it had a great musical scene, great alternative scene. And it was a long, long way away from Devon. Maybe my spidey-sense guided me to the right place, maybe my dark angel just picked me up and plonked me down in the right place at the right time.
Devon is very, very beautiful and it is absolutely gorgeous - unless you are in any way different. I have always been the weird kid. I was strange in all kinds of ways. I can't specifically say I was bullied horribly, but I knew I wasn't going to fit. I never fitted. I needed to get out of there. In 1978, there was this thing called Student Grants, which was the saving of me. It meant that poor, working class kids who wanted to get away and were intelligent had a route. An escape route. I felt an attraction to Leeds. I knew that the music scene was brilliant. The Gang of Four, Delta Five, the Mekons, they were all happening before I went there, or about the time I went there. I knew that the alternative scene was very strong. So I rocked up in ‘78, age of 18. And, and yeah, it was, very Heaven.
“I FELT AN ATTRACTION TO LEEDS. I KNEW THAT THE MUSIC SCENE WAS BRILLIANT. I KNEW THAT THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE WAS VERY STRONG. SO I ROCKED UP IN ‘78, AGE OF 18. AND, AND YEAH, IT WAS, VERY HEAVEN.”
— ROSIE GARLAND
Danny
I was around at the birth of Goth. The beginning of Goth wasn't actually Goth - it wasn't called that till after. It came from the F Club, in ‘76, ‘77 where all the punks met up, that's when all the bands were formed. John Keenan put the nights on. It moved about, but started off in the Poly Common Room. I used to go to downstairs at Brannigan's, at the bottom of Briggate. I wasn't old enough to go [alone], so my sister used to take me. We saw punk bands like Slaughter and Dogs and the early punk gigs. There was a lot of pub rock.
Everybody used to just go there, people made friends and started bands. You could just literally watch a band and think, “I could do that”, because it was the Punk thing, anybody could do it, three chords and a song. [After Punk] you had Post-Punk - people grew out of the Ramones, and in Leeds it developed into The Gang of Four, The Mekons and The Three Johns. It got a bit clever, because it was a bit like university-intellectual-stuff
Rosie
I absolutely loved being at Leeds University. It was wonderful. I had a passion for Old English. I was reading Beowulf at the age of 18. And it was just fantastic. And all four Violets were at one college or another. Tom was at Jacob Kramer. Myself, Loz and Simon were all at Leeds University. The universities and colleges in Leeds were massively important. The colleges and universities brought together this diverse group of creative people from all over the UK and beyond.
The Yorkshire Ripper - that happened just as I arrived in Leeds. Long story short, it radicalised me. Part of that radicalisation was to embrace my sexuality after trying to repress it for many, many years. I embraced feminism and I went on Reclaim the Night marches. I stopped trying to be normal. I had heroically failed to be normal. I thought, “sod this for a game of soldiers” and joined the March Violets.
I became part of the Violets right at the start in 1980. It was a time when lots of bands were forming in Leeds. It was this perfect storm of darkness. People doing things differently, using brand new technology, like drum machines that had hardly anything programmed into them. But, oh my God, it was radical. Fantastic.
The Feminist Archive North holds original newsletters, song sheets and other ephemera from Reclaim the Night marches and other feminist activities and campaigns over the last 60 years. The picture above shows Sandra McNeill on a Reclaim the Night march in London. Sandra is third from the right holding the sign that says "Women Are Revolting".
“A BIG THING THAT MADE A DIFFERENCE, CERTAINLY FOR THE GOTH SOUND WAS DRUM MACHINES. THAT JUST MADE IT A LOT EASIER FOR EVERYBODY, BECAUSE DRUMMERS ARE HARD TO FIND, AND YOU COULD REHEARSE. YOU’D REHEARSE IN A DAMP CELLAR WITH MOULDY MATTRESSES ON THE WALL. WITH THE DRUM MACHINE, YOU COULD PRACTICE ALL THE TIME.”
DANNY MASS
Danny Mass
A big thing that made a difference, certainly for the Goth sound was drum machines. That's where we [Salvation] started, where The Sisters of Mercy and The March Violets started. That just made it a lot easier for everybody, because drummers are hard to find, and you could rehearse. All the houses in Headingley had cellars, so you'd rehearse in a damp cellar with mouldy mattresses on the wall. With the drum machine, you could practice all the time, that moved things on a lot quicker. I suppose that's probably where the Goth things started. At that time, there was no such thing as Goth, it hadn't been even mentioned at all.
Rosie Garland
Leeds in the early 80s was really messy. It was chaotic. I mean, I remember the riots. And a bomb went off 100 yards from where I was living. And we, the Violets, we were chaotic and all over the place. We were all kind of messy. I genuinely believe that your 20s for flailing. I acknowledge I did a lot of flailing. We had a lot of rough edges, all four of us. We all had our sharp edges and we all ground up against each other. And we did spark fire.
I know that people say, “Ooh, did you get on with the Sisters? Wasn't there rivalry?” No! Tom actually played with the Sisters in ‘82. He was their guitarist because I think their guitarist went off to Edinburgh. We all shared each other. Kev Lycett from the Mekons, he could not have been more helpful. He was incredibly supportive. Andrew from the Sisters, he came into KG Studios and helped us mix Grooving and Green and Steam. He gave us all his time. So I don't have memories of rivalry. We shared the bill with the Sisters, including our very first gig in Keighley. And, you know, we hung out. We lent each other records. We spent far too many long nights at Andrew's place, watching videos on VHS. Bands supported each other.
Danny Mass
I bought a synthesizer, because I couldn’t play anything. I'd just sit in my bedroom, [with] a drum machine, the reel-to-reel and synthesizer, put the drum machine through the synthesizer, make sequence noises, and sing over the top of it. In The Warehouse, somebody came up and said, “Oh, he's a bass player, he's a guitar player, you should get together”, so we got together and jammed. It was just me making noises and somebody playing a bass. I started practising and writing songs. The weird thing is, I knew The Sisters by then, I was actually writing for them at the time.
Andrew [Eldritch] said, “When you get some songs together, we could go into the studio.” He took us to Strawberry Studios, where 10CC recorded, before we'd even done a gig. We recorded an EP, the first four songs we'd written, first time we'd ever been in a studio. It was great, I loved it; but because we couldn't really play properly, we got hardly anything done. By the time we'd finished it, and started doing gigs, Andrew didn't want to put the EP out, and so that EP never came out.
Our first gig was at the Tartan Bar, at the University. The weird thing is, the night it was a miners' benefit gig, and The Sisters of Mercy were playing in the refectory, so nobody would come and see us. All our friends were, “What are you doing that night? We’re going to see The Sisters”, which is where we would have been as well. Which was quite funny.
Rosie Garland
There was a genuine sense of independence, when bands were genuinely setting up their own record labels. Most famously, the Sisters setting up Merciful Release. I don't think there's ever been a better named record label in the history of music. Or better logo. We set up Rebirth, our own record label.
Danny Mass
Salvation didn’t identify as Goth, not really. We didn't fight against it, because there was no chance - if you came from Leeds in the 80s, and you had a drum machine you were a Goth band, that was it. We just kept in with everybody.
I packed my job in. I had a well-paid job in a factory but I was taking time off to roadie for The Sisters. They said, “You're going to have to choose”. I was still living at home at the time and I had to have that conversation with my parents saying, “I’m gonna pack my job in”, I was shitting myself telling them because I thought they were gonna go crazy. They just said, “Do what you need to do”, which literally changed my life, because if I hadn't done that I'd probably still be in a factory. The only reason I stopped working for The Sisters was because Salvation were getting more gigs. I don't regret it for a second. I feel very lucky, I'm so glad I was around when it all started.
THE DJ'S
Live Music was important but so was DJing, in the pre-internet, pre-Spotify era. Claire Shearsby
was a pivotal figure in the birth of Goth music in Leeds. She was the DJ at John Keenan’s F-Club, where the members of The Sisters of Mercy met. Her boyfriend was Andrew Eldritch from the Sisters and she shared a house with various band members in Village Place in Burley. She was also the band’s sound engineer at their early gigs.
Claire Shearsby
When I was 17, still at school. I started going out with this guy who looked like David Bowie. He was in a band and he used to buy the Melody Maker, Sounds and the NME every week. He'd tape John Peel on his reel-to-reel tape recorder and just play me stuff. And he got me into things like The Stooges and all that sort of stuff. And then in late ‘76, me and him, we found out that the gig at Fforde Green was on with the Pistols. We both went, he was on the back of my moped. There was maybe 30 people there altogether. Just 35p to get in.
When I left school, I thought I could either hang out in a local near me or else I could go and hang out in the Poly Bar and bump into people. All the art students, the Mekons, the Gang of Four, all that lot were drinking in the Poly Bar because it was really cheap - also the Faversham. A friend of mine was DJing for John Keenan, a guy called Sean Cavell, and I became friends with him. After a really short amount of time, he just left Leeds and went to London to seek his fortune, and I ended up DJing for John Keenan. All of a sudden Sean was gone and I was John Keenan's “Claire Who Does the Discs”. That's what it said on all the little corners of the little posters that he used to draw to promote his bands. Every time he moved, I went with him.
A few years later we were in the Phono, and I just asked one of the twins if they'd got a spare night going, and I convinced them to let me have Wednesday. So I became the Wednesday DJ down the Phono. At the same time, I was learning how to be a sound engineer with a band called Salvation. We'd tour all the little gigs up and down the country, and afterwards there'd be a disco. Going round the country and hearing what everybody else was playing just made the Wednesday night at the Phono better, because it was what kids up and down the country were listening to. So Wednesday became really popular, it was a pound a pint, and people didn't seem to have anywhere to go on a Thursday…
The F Club, I think it had five venues. We started in the Poly Common Room, and John called the night “The Stars of Today”. And it was really early punk stuff, as I recall. But then the Poly told John he couldn't promote there anymore, and so we went to the Ace of Clubs, which was up at High Park Corner, down at Woodhouse. But we weren't there for long. And there was Roots in Chapeltown. Saw Suicide there, which was awesome. Well, very loud. Awesomely loud. And then I think we went to Brannigan's. He did a Wednesday night thing called “The Sheepdog Trials”, which was local bands - because he worked at Emmerdale Farm. And he promoted upstairs in the Merrion Centre a place called Tiffany's, which had a tree.
“A FRIEND OF MINE WAS DJING FOR JOHN KEENAN, A GUY CALLED SEAN CAVELL, AND I BECAME FRIENDS WITH HIM. AFTER A REALLY SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME, HE JUST LEFT LEEDS AND WENT TO LONDON TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE, AND I ENDED UP DJING FOR JOHN.”
CLAIRE SHEARSBY
The whole goth label was a bit problematic, I remember, because it felt like a sneer. Like the people who invented the term, it felt like they were being derogatory with it, looking down the nose at us northerners or the people from Leeds, because we weren't Manchester or Liverpool. And I don't know who coined the phrase, but it just sort of evoked the feeling of naffness, I thought. But I don't know, we were just trying to be cool. All the other colours had gone. Black seemed to be left. I don't think I was ever a Goth. I mean, I wasn't a big Sisters fan. I just happened to be going out with the singer, the guy that became the singer. And the early Sisters stuff was great, the 12-inch singles and all that. And then the first album was a bit of a disappointment because the production was so poor.
I used to go out when I was younger and people would come up and go, “What have you come as?” And I hadn’t come as anything. I was just mixing and matching and creating my own style. Lots of black and little spurts of individualism here and there.
I had a guy, a friend called Steve, who would just drive us everywhere. And so he'd drive me down with my records, Steve, Jay, and we'd all sort of hang out at the end of the night. About two o'clock, everybody would either come back to a village place, my house, or [Steve’s] massive flat up on Hyde Park Road, so we'd either all go back there or come down to village place and just carry on partying. We’d be out four nights a week. We had the stamina. We were all on the dole. We were all signed on. That's what allowed us all to be doing what we did, really. The freedom to be creative. It was great. It was just the time was right and I was the right age.
Claire wasn’t the only DJ. Many people remember a DJ called Chock. “He was the perfect DJ,” recalls Ann Louise. “You'd go there, you'd hope you'd get your music played - but then it was the combination of things that he'd play as well, because he'd play proper 1950s stuff. There'd be weird jive stuff happening. Then there were the Flat Tops and the Rockabillies and Chock would be telling them off, because suddenly they were the most violent of the dancers on the dance floor, pushing each other about. “I won't play anymore if you behave like that! Let those nice Goths come and stare at their shoes while they get on the dance floor.” Ha ha!”
THE VENUES
Part of the success of the Goth scene was having particular places to go, places that felt welcoming and supportive to anyone from the “alternative culture”
The Phono (or officially Le Phonographique ) was an underground nightclub, somewhat incongruous within the Merrion Shopping Centre. The toilets were swamps and the carpet was a dark sticky mess - but who cared when the drinks were cheap and the music was played by Claire Shearsby? The Phono became the meeting place for the Leeds Goth Scene and its lunchtime sessions became legendary.
The Faversham Arms (The Fav) was an ex-hotel that was just off the Leeds University campus, near to Cardigan Road. It became a regular haunt of the Post-Punk bands - each having their own corner. At closing time, it was only a short walk down the hill to The Warehouse (a legendary club opposite the Town Hall), for extended drinking and dancing to alternative music avoiding the potential violence of a walk through the city centre. I had a short spell working on the bar at The Fav and can confirm it is definitely not a short walk back to Boddington Hall!
More venues Brannigans, on Call Lane; and Tiffany’s, a nightclub and live music venue in the Merrion Centre. Other Clothes and Leeds Kirkgate Market were also places that people could go, specifically to buy the clothes that helped you to stand out – or fit in, depending how you look at it. For many the Goth look, or fashion became as important, if not more than the music. A look that is instantly recognised, particularly for women of black back-combed hair, white make-up, black eye liner, black dresses, jeans and boots.
Mark
Typically [we’d go to] the Poly Bop, as it was known then, on a Wednesday and a Saturday night. And then, if the DJ was willing, there'd always be Temple of Love as the final song. You were moshing and throwing your arms around - and it was always the last song. There was a band called Love and Rockets, who played at the Duchess, and I went to see them down there, and then we went to various Town and Country gigs at the time. [At the Poly Bop], it was always packed, it was just, like, there were bodies, and the dry ice and the flashing lights, and that Sisters track - Body Electric, that was it.
Danny
We all used to hang around in the Faversham. It was the one safe place where all the weirdos could go and you wouldn't get threatened. It wasn't like a normal pub, because it was a student pub, so it was a lot safer. It was a big place, everybody had a little corner - March Violets would be over there, Sisters of Mercy would be over there. It was the only pub you could go to, because if you went in town anybody with spiky hair or tight jeans would get either beat up or chased. You'd go to the Faversham and then we'd all go to The Warehouse, on the outskirts of town. The good thing about The Warehouse was they had a door policy, if you didn't look right, you just didn't get in. Look right as in weird or made an effort. There wasn't tracksuits and suits and ties, they wouldn't let you in. Mark Almond used to DJ there.
Lisa
I would have been probably in my mid-teens at the time, and we used to come into town on a Saturday. Everybody would meet up near the Corn Exchange, and there was a cafe above what's now Blue Rinse, where everybody used to meet up, and it was, like, three floors of different rooms in there. There'd be a room where music were being played, there'd be food, there'd be pool tables and arcade games, but everybody from the Goth scene would usually meet there on a Saturday kind of mid-morning and be there till tea-time. Them that were old enough would go to the bars and go to the Le Phono. As I got older, I started going. That were a great nightclub, there were all sorts of people there that you could hang out with from the Goth scene, the Punk scene, the Metal scene.
“IT WAS TINY, THE TOILETS WEREN’T GREAT. EVERY WEEK SOMEBODY WOULD KICK AND BREAK THEM SO YOU WERE JUST SQUELCHING. THE LADIES’ WERE JUST AS BAD. IT WAS A GOOD NIGHT, IT WAS DEAD CHEAP, IF YOU GOT THERE BEFORE NINE, IT WAS A POUND A PINT.”
DANNY MASS
Ann Louise
I must have been 16. Being part of that and just wanting to be in a band, wanting to be part of that scene, and then suddenly starting to go, all right, there's this place called Le Phono, there's the place called the Warehouse. Getting there on your first time and just feeling that you had entered a completely different world, and it was brilliant. And it was also really safe. Nobody was going to start a fight. If you spent that much time doing your hair, doing your make-up, wearing your clothes, you weren't going to be in a position to even want to engage in anything negative. So it was a really, really positive environment to be in. Everybody just wanted a good night out and wanted to dance.
Wendy
I used to go to the Phono in the early 80s. We lived at Harewood and went to school in Harrogate but the only decent alternative clubs were in Leeds. So we used to go to the Phono on Friday nights. And then we'd go to the Warehouse on a Saturday night. It was brilliant because it was just different.
Ann Louise
You'd go to the Phono on a Saturday lunchtime, come out in the middle of the day and be dazzled by the light. Then we either piled across the road to sit in that little park at the back of St John's Church. And there was a place called Le Café. You used to go upstairs, and it just stank of frying fat. But that's where we'd all pile in to get chips. And you'd sit in there in the afternoon, after you'd been to the Phono. But then you'd go out again in the evening. We swapped, we did the Phono, and then we'd do the Warehouse, then we'd do the Phono. Le Phono was far too small, ludicrous to have this sort of central pillar which I think had mirrors round it. You could end up all dancing literally around this central space. The Tiddly Bar in the corner. The Twins - I never knew their names, but they were the Twins - they owned it. And then the horrific toilets at the far end with all sorts of goings-on that everybody used to talk about. There was a guy who was a Flat-top who was the DJ there. He was great. Just a smoke chamber of a space that was far too small with everybody smoking down there. Just seats around the edges and never really knowing how big or small it was once there was lots of people in there. It was in one room. Ridiculous. There was a cloakroom just near the bottom of the stairs which was basically just a hatch. You were just in this really, really small space.
Danny
The Phono came later, Claire used to DJ there, so we were there at least two or three times a week. You knew exactly what you were getting, the nights didn't change. They had different DJs, but you knew it was going to be the same people, and virtually the same music, either a bit darker or a bit lighter. It was never like a normal night, never a disco night or anything like that. You used to come down some stairs and it was circular with a square mirror pole in the middle - you could dance with yourself. It was tiny, the toilets weren’t great. Every week somebody would kick and break them so you were just squelching. The Ladies’ were just as bad. It was a good night, it was dead cheap, if you got there before nine, it was a pound a pint. So you'd just fill the table with pints.
Rosie
Le Phonographique. If you stood still for more than 10 seconds, your feet stuck to the carpet. In all the most random, unlikely places in the world, it was downstairs in a 1970s shopping precinct. That’s like something out of a George Romero movie. It was a haven. I didn't just go down for the alternative nights. I clearly hung around for the gay nights as well. It's where I met my first girlfriends. They were like town lasses. I didn't give a monkeys about my hair or my makeup. I went to the Phono to be with my people, whoever they were. And it is really important to remember that nobody gives us these places. We have to create them. But we made it that place. We made it that Heaven.
Sandra
Le Phono, that was my favourite place. In the Merrion Centre. Upstairs was Tiffany's and downstairs was Le Phono. Also I remember going to Chaplains, that was nice. It was a little pub, in the Merrion Centre.
Gav
People would go to the Phono and that's when we got kicked out, we'd go to this churchyard a few yards away. We'd hang out there until we found out what we were doing. We'd hang out with different people.
Rosie
I was a Faversham girl. The jukebox was great. There was the lovely Kev behind the bar, who was just the absolute world's sweetheart. They had a good pool table. When you get that vortex, people kind of are drawn in a magnet-y kind of way. Without anyone putting up an announcement, the Faversham was just the place you hung out at. it was another haven. It was another place of safety, but also it was a place of excitement. It's where all the bands hung out or at least all the people who I wanted to meet. I knew that if I wanted to just, it wasn't that I always went with a group of people. I knew that if I went to the Fav, I'd meet people I knew and would have people to hang out with. I never felt lonely, even if I went places on my own.
“TIFFANY’S WAS A REALLY GOOD SPACE BECAUSE IT WAS KIND OF LIKE A BIG RECTANGLE WITH A STAGE AT THE FAR END BUT IT WAS QUITE A WIDE STAGE. BUT IT WAS THE SORT OF HEIGHT THAT YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO BREAK YOUR THIGHS IF YOU WERE AT THE FRONT AND THERE WAS A CRUSH COMING FROM BEHIND YOU.
ANN LOUISE
Ann Louise
I've got my tickets from Tiffany's, and The Warehouse. Seeing Bauhaus, just upstairs in Merrion Centre was just hysterical, really, when you think about it. When I was in one of my earliest bands, our first gig was the Duchess of Granby, which was down at the bottom of Eastgate. And then we did the Beer Keller, which was round the back of the Merrion Centre, and the Fenton, and you did all those little places. The F Club, I think I went to twice. And that was when it was very much pre-Goth. So it was just to experience it, as a kid who was about 15. So I shouldn't have even been there. Just marvelling at that whole underworld. It felt like a completely different scene. And then Brannigan's, we went to see gigs. Really small venue, so literally the ceiling dripping with sweat, condensation. Yeah, you know, absolutely grim. Going to see Boomtown Rats at the Queen's Hall, swimming in God knows what. Absolutely horrendous.
Kenneth
I used to go into the warehouse for a night out and also the Phonographique. It was a great time to be alive. The music was brilliant. I mainly went to the club nights really. The Warehouse on Friday, Saturday nights were really good. Especially when Mark Almond were about. He did a guest spot at the warehouse. He was just beginning to get into the scene. Upstairs in Tiffany's, there used to be a little bar there where they used to play a lot of Gary Numan and a lot of the other kind of stuff. In Tiffany's, you used to find a little group in there who were into that style of music. At that time it was a new scene. It was new and people were just discovering that scene. People were just going, yeah, this is where I belong.
Ann Louise
Tiffany’s was a really good space because it was kind of like a big rectangle with a stage at the far end but it was quite a wide stage. But it was the sort of height that you thought you were going to break your thighs if you were at the front and there was a crush coming from behind you. But yeah, Cramps, Killing Joke, Bauhaus, Damned, they all played upstairs there. You had that real mix. And of course you just got your tickets from Jumbo.
Rosie
The alternative clothes shops. I remember one place called Other Clothes. That was in one of the arcades. They kind of did a lot of their own designs, which I wore. And obviously Leeds Kirkgate Market. Oh my word. I sourced most of my clothes from the junk stores and the rag stores on Leeds Kirkgate Market. I was digging up Edwardian lace. You’d pick up this massive lace shawl that was over a hundred years old and you'd get it for a fiver, if that. And the market in the Merrion Centre Sold cheap as chips makeup, which is great when you get through miles of eyeliner. I love the flamboyance of rooting around and just kind of going, oh yeah, I'll put that with that and that with that and that with that. And I picked up a lot, if not all of my lipstick tips from the wonderful drag queens that I hung out with as well.
Ann Louise
The time we took to spend on how we looked, you know, it was quite something. Other Clothes - in the Victoria Arcade where Reiss is, that was an old ballroom. And that was turned into a little market. So it was the Victoria Arcade market and it had little stalls that looked like a miniature Kirkgate. So there were just stands. And that's where whoever she was, she set up her stall that was for alternative clothes. I always wanted a Hussars jacket because that was the one that Adam Ant wore. But she sold all the rest of the Gothy stuff as well. X Clothes was our version of World's End down on the King's Road. So it had a reputation for being expensive. And for the people who worked there to kind of be idolised because they were kind of wearing the fashions of the shop.
We got the sweet spot of being able to plunder charity shops when there was really cool stuff. That was absolutely brilliant. Then the little shop in the Merrion Centre that was second-hand, but it had tailcoats, it had smoking jackets, it had the dressing gowns. It was the place where you got your badges from. But they did sell top hats, they did sell all that kind of stuff, and it was all quite a reasonable price. But it was all original.
WHY GOTH?
WHY GOTH
What is being a Goth all about? We asked everyone we interviewed what Goth was and what being a Goth meant to them. Personally, I think Ade nails it when he says, “It doesn't want to be part of the norm. 90% of being a Goth means denying you're a Goth!”
Gav
I think Leeds, Sheffield and Manchester have a northern-ness and a darker sound. At the beginning of the 80s, there was the alternative scene. Goth became this label - not posthumous, but retrospective. Because at the time, what was happening in Leeds, there was a burgeoning music scene. The thing that irks me a bit about Goth as a label is it's like Punk as a label. It's done by the media, “What is this racket?” It's a dismissive, sort of, throwaway label, “What do they sound like, what do they look like?” Once they're pigeonholed, it becomes a caricature, right? And it’s not necessarily all doom and gloom. It's dark energy, and there was a lot of energy to it. And being in Leeds, there was a lot of people making fresh stuff that is classed as Goth nowadays, but it was that energy.
Ade
It was 1981. Siouxie and the Banshees were on Top of the Pops, and they did Spellbound. I was like, “wow, what is this?” I was 10 years old. That was when nobody went anywhere when Top of the Pops was on. Even if you didn't like most of the music, you might just get one band you liked. And that was, for me, it was Siouxie.
Betsy
I have three brothers, two of which were Goths. They're four years older than me and seven years older than me. As a child I was like introduced to that scene and just thought it was absolutely amazing. You didn't have to follow suit, you didn't have to wear what everybody else was wearing. I looked up to my brothers. John had a Mohican and I used to watch him getting ready to go out and think that he was just the best thing ever. I would tell all my friends how amazing my brothers were. So, I kind of fell into alternative scene and just thought, yeah, these are my kind of people.
Rosie
Goth was about belonging. Belonging and homecoming. As a kid, I'd been the outsider. I was reading Edgar Allan Poe when I was far too young. Somebody gave me a copy of Tales of Mystery and Imagination when I was nine, probably thinking it was improving literature for children. I was reading The Pit and the Pendulum when I was nine. And apart from having the living bejesus scared out of me, something went ping, which was the power of the word. I was so excited by that. I was drawn to. I hate to use the phrase the dark side, but I've always been interested in venturing into my own personal dark geography. Goth was there at the right time for me to do that. And it is a scene that wouldn't die. Maybe it's because of its long history, reaching back through writers like Edgar Allan Poe.
Layla
I'm in a band, a goth band. Tristwch y Fenywod, it a Welsh-language goth band, it means “the sadness of women”. And I think that, for me, Goth is, like, acknowledging the sadness and the grief that being alive entails. Even though I think I approach life with a great sense of joy, you know, I'm quite a positive person. I think when you've experienced loss, you know that that is a part of life. We're all on that trajectory. That's the one universal experience, isn't it? So I think Goth is an acknowledgement of that.
Betsy
I've always been a bit of a rule breaker. [In the Goth scene] people are so kind and so accepting of each other. Whereas in normal life, I don't think you get that. I think people can be quite judgmental, whereas if you go to a Goth event or an alternative event of any kind, people are so much more accepting and there's no rules. You don't have to comply to this, you don't have to comply to that. You can just be you. And there's no age limit on it either.
Gav
I followed the Sisters. I saw them about 50 times. I wasn't at university anymore, and I wasn't working. They were about to do a bit of a tour. We bumped into one of the Sisters and he goes, “Right, I'll put you on the guest list. And which ones do you fancy going to?” I said, “I'm just doing the lot!” Some of it was the cheap coaches, some of it trains. You probably couldn't sleep on a train station now, but I slept in more than one, on a bench. I slept under a sink in somebody's flat. I slept in a phone box.
Graeme
One of the debates within the goth community is whether you're a “trad Goth” or whether you're a cyber goth or whether you're one of the many different strains. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what you are, it's just a question of what you like to wear and what your happy place is and everybody's accepting of the other different strains.
Kenneth
We used to go to the university and see some of the emerging bands like Sisters of Mercy. It was really good. We’re talking early 80s to mid 80s. Just as that scene was beginning. Coming out of punk rock. It was an absolutely amazing time. To me it was, you know, you were part of that niche. Other people looking at you strange. Some of the clothing were absolutely superb. I still remember having a pair of black trousers with zips going down the leg and shirts with leather straps on and things like that.
It was always dark and the music were always really lively. You were drinking, the music was pounding. It was just really alive. It was like... it was a buzz. There was just that buzz about the place. It was a really cool place to be. The music was always absolutely on spot. The look of the people in there, the vibe of the whole thing, it was just amazing. It was one of the fun places to go. I used to love the whole thing. It was a lifestyle back then. We'd all down everyday jobs, but the weekends were like, right, let's go. Let's have a really fun night out, you know, with people like-minded. We're good, I really enjoyed it. Each person really developed their own look. And the music was... it was something else.
“GOTH IS, LIKE, ACKNOWLEDGING THE SADNESS AND THE GRIEF THAT BEING ALIVE ENTAILS. EVEN THOUGH I THINK I APPROACH LIFE WITH A GREAT SENSE OF JOY, YOU KNOW, I'M QUITE A POSITIVE PERSON. I THINK WHEN YOU'VE EXPERIENCED LOSS, YOU KNOW THAT THAT IS A PART OF LIFE.”
LAYLA
Garry
It's always been friendly, and it's always been very inclusive. Everybody used to walk about saying, “I'm an individual!” But you can be Goth in so many different ways, can't you? Well, it's got a big umbrella, has goth. There's a lot of things that you can include!
Phil
I like the music, I like the imagery, and I always thought that the people that were in the scene were quite accepting of others. Because it attracted people who were perhaps not mainstream. People could be free to be themselves, without being judged, without being victimised. I always thought it was a very encompassing and open scene for people to join. I still like the music, I still go to gigs. I'm not Goth 24-7 because I'm heading rapidly towards 60. So I don't do the make-up anymore, I've got too many lines for that sort of thing.
Ade
Goth is a music-based subculture that's generally left-leaning, with a certain outlook of acceptance. It doesn't want to be part of the norm. But 90% of being a Goth means denying you're a Goth.
Ann Louise
You could walk round town and just say hello to anybody and everybody because you would stand out from the normal people of Leeds. It was absolute positive embracement. If I was going out, you had to be planning meticulously the amount of time it would take. If I'm going to sit in front of a mirror for an hour, crimping my hair, backcombing my hair, hairspraying it to within an inch of its life, and then starting on the make-up and then the clothes as well. You were ready for a night out. You changed yourself from whatever you were in the daytime being at home, living at your parents' in your own little bedroom, to suddenly being somebody who was part of something and people knowing you.
Being in a band, you'd get spotted. I was a drummer in a band. At the time, I don't know if there was another female drummer in Leeds at the time. So people would know me, not necessarily as anything great. I'm not saying I was a great drummer at all. I was a drummer. I could keep time. But you were then known on the scene because you were in that band and you were that female drummer. So you had your little reputations that meant you felt like you were a big fish in a little pond. You were a legend in your own microcosm of space. It was an amazing scene, I think. And I have got nothing but high regard for that time because we just had an ace time.
THIS IS THE END
As Rosie Garland said, Goth “is a scene that wouldn't die”. It has survived and thrived. From its formation in the early to mid-eighties right through to today, where there is still an amazing Goth scene. Rosie’s band, The March Violets, have reformed and are back on the road gigging again. Just down the road, there’s the long -running annual Whitby Goth Festival, bringing Goth Music and fashions to the home of the Gothic novel. Leeds now has a regular Festival of Gothica where we found a thriving and crowded market with Goths of all ages mingling and browsing the stalls.
People can say that Goth wasn’t ‘Goth’ or that they weren’t Goth, they were post-punk. Some believe firmly that Goth started in Leeds. Others are more doubtful. But the fact is there was something in Leeds in the early 80s that people found compelling to want to be a part of. And it still attracts people now. Some are attracted to the music, some the fashion - many both. But the spirit of Goth, the dark energy, the individualism and the acceptance of difference is a strong and attractive as ever. And long may it continue.