I could never be a Goth, sadly. I mean look at me: I’m bloody ginger, I’ve got blue eyes, it’s too ridiculous for words. But it didn’t mean I didn’t want to be one, I just knew it could never be. But they had great tunes, the moody buggers, all huge riffs and stonking baselines and moody lyrics that said … well who knows, I never listen to lyrics really, it’s probably why I’ve never rated Bob Dylan. And why I won’t collect a Nobel Prize for literature.
But Killing Joke were epic: clearly it all meant a hell of a lot to them, and Jaz was a brilliant front man, screaming away in front of that wall of noise. It was a coin toss between this and Eighties, which is just a genius song (and clip) about how much EVERYTHING IS A DISASTER, man, all propelled by Geordie and his almost mountainous, bass-like guitar riff.
I knew I should have kept bleaching my hair after that trip to the Snowy Mountains. It works for him, and he has a bloody stupid name to get past on his route to effortless cool. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnpwuRlXbhk