similar to a Madonna record sleeve image. Anne Marie was pictured eyes closed, lips parted…. For their part, the band pretty much relented and gave them what they wanted, or at least met them halfway… meaning that the album didn’t really sound like Ghost Dance any more. They wanted Tina Turner-type stomping ‘n’ funky rock hits, Belinda Carlisle-style ballads and epic guitar solos. but, in short, Chrysalis fucked up Ghost Dance by trying to make them sound more commercially viable for the American market. Here was a popular band with a devoted fanbase, a great live act and who looked fabulous … so what happened? Well, the whole story is there in the 12 pages of sleeve notes that come with this glossy two disc reissue…. When they were snapped up by Chrysalis Records (home to Blondie among others) it must have been a dream come true for both parties. not that I’d have considered that notion as a serious Goth in the mid 80s. Ghost Dance may have reluctantly accepted the Goth tag but they were in reality a glam rock band – a very good one – whose childhood ambitions were to score a Top 30 hit…. The giveaway to their roots and ambitions lay in the bootleg’s encores and the blazing versions of Radar Love and Can The Can (glam pop classics by the Dutch band Golden Earring and Suzi Quatro for the benefit of the under 45s). Ghost Dance’s recorded output never seemed to capture the power and the glory of their live shows, whereas a good bootleg did (maybe being there and the drugs helped). I can remember Keith’s catchphrase echo-ing round Camden tube – “best band int’ fookin wuuurld are Playdead!!”Īnyway, I digress Corbett-style. I got to know a couple of bootleggers, a Hugh Cornwell lookalike from the North called Keith and his son Rob (who moved to Amsterdam) because they seemed to pop up at every London gig I was at. In the early 80s you could buy great (and sometime awful) live tapes at the monthly record fairs and consequently get to hear new bands like the Sisters, Flesh For Lulu and Playdead before they’d release an album. Both mixing desk recordings, one Chelmsford one Hammersmith (I think, they’re in the loft somewhere). I never owned any of the band’s early independent records as I could always listen to them at mates’ houses but also because I had two brilliant bootleg tapes of them live. Ghost Dance had that same grace and power and similar romantic, yearning songs that rocked, swooped and soared. Somehow it was as if I’d imagined them into existence as I’d never seen one of my most-loved bands, Pauline Murray’s Penetration (until they reformed years later). She always had great hair – an important consideration in the world of Goth – and she was one of the few Goth singers who wasn’t afraid to smile (occasionally) and visibly enjoy the sheer drama and energy of the songs and the vibe of those spell-binding gigs. A great voice, not as harsh or teutonic as Siouxsie’s and not quite so honey-ed or sensual as Debbie Harry’s – somewhere betwixt and between. He’d prowl the stage like a panther, had the stance of a gunslinger and would teeter on the monitors squeezing out guitar solos.Īnne-Marie Hurst was cool too. Gary Marx and his guitar were integral to both the Sisters and Ghost Dance – one of the most underrated musicians of his generation.
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