…And the band played on.
…And the band played on.
…Because it’s a job. It’s a show. It’s a cash grab. It’s a food chain. It’s a charade masked into a temporary reality, shared by the stoned. It’s a photograph in a blinding flash. The fleeting lights and sequins will return to their road boxes. The limousine will peel out of the underground parking. The road boxes will roll onto trucks and sit in a dusty warehouse. And away it goes. “Where the world is headed, Nobody knows.” A cloak to adjourn your rock throne of choice. Stage scenery gets rained on in a Los Angeles alley. A guitar is hawked for a South African totem. Adios. No more Love and Rockets.
You won’t have these gothic glam icons to kick down the stairs when they get old.
The pitfalls of rock music are what you expected, but worse. I can’t think of a band that has been dealt such litigious blows, tour accidents, and fires. From the infamous 1995 fire at Rick Rubin’s recording studio, to record deals gone awry, to a car crash on the way to a gig in Anaheim, Daniel Ash quips, “This is a make-or-break situation for me.” If a shark doesn’t keep moving, it dies. And so does the art—the music. But that’s not these guys’ problem. David J Haskins is multi-talented and prolific, with solo albums and many personal projects including plays and a biography. Kevin Haskins also records for film and video games, and he produced his daughter’s bands BlackBlack and Automatic. Love and Rockets’ collaborative music is licensed to many films and TV projects by their management annually. They never get old.
The band Love and Rockets reassembled in 1995 and started recording what became Sweet F.A. also known as a phrase, Sweet Fuck All. That sentiment comes from a trial of fortune in a devastating fire at Rick Rubin’s property known as The Mansion. Genesis P. Orridge of the band Psychic TV was there laying down electronic dubs and contributing to the recording. Rick Rubin always made his magic late at night, as do most of his musicians. It was a constant conflict for Rick Rubin to deal with New York time on the West Coast, as Rick starts his day at 2:30 p.m. basically every day. At night, the problems and phone calls subside, and he can focus on “just the music.”
Around 7:30 a.m., an exhausted Love and Rockets were awoken by a five-alarm bell fire that devastated the former home of Houdini. Genesis was trapped in a guest room and then smashed through a window for survival. On the second story of this Spanish casa, Genesis fell onto concrete stairs below in a passageway. Genesis shattered an elbow and wrist and was sent by ambulance to Cedars Sinai on Beverly Blvd. There, Genisis P. Orridge spent 10 days in the hospital and discovered they would not be able to play guitar again.
Love and Rockets lost everything. This album was fully budgeted to be a high concept and rich layered electronic-alternative album. Months of work were lost, including the highly specialized instruments and recording equipment. And the recordings—almost all were lost including masters. Daniel’s prized saxophone was “melted through the floorboards.” His telecaster guitar was salvaged as a charred remnant of this damned universe. The guitar of Ash’s has since gone to auction.
Under the cloud of a three-way lawsuit between artists, Rick Rubin spent his own money, about $30,000 dollars, to complete the record contract. And he re-recorded the entire album for the band. On this budget, it would be a bare-bones, acoustic effort, and this is what you have today. Miraculously, some sessions and song construction were saved via DAT tape. This was taken to another location for safekeeping every night. The album Sweet F.A. was re-forged, and the band and Rick Rubin parted ways.
This departure must have been devastating on its own. These guys were a type of dark Hollywood brat pack. Both Love and Rockets and Ian Astbury are responsible for the launch of Perry Farrell’s projects Psi Com and later Jane’s Addiction. Between John Frusciante being a permanent fixture at Rubin’s, there was Henry Rollins and a close-in-age Perry Farrell. I heard stories about these guys making late-night runs from The Mansion to Del Taco together. Psi Com opened for both Love and Rockets and The Cult on their first tours in 1986. Love and Rockets took a brand-new Jane’s Addiction on their Earth Sun Moon tour in 1987. Perry Farrell was nearly arrested on stage at UCI during some expressive nudity. We saw it from the back row. This, while performing the song “Ain’t No Right,” supporting Love and Rockets. They were all great friends.
I was young—21 years old—when I met Rick. He had just bought the famous Mafia party house above Pink Dot. Here, Motley Crue and Van Halen played house parties in the 1980s. Rubin bought some architectural salvage plumbing and antiques from my dad in Carpenteria. Rick Rubin and Mick Jagger walked into my dad’s store, and I hid upstairs and went out of my young mind. My dad said, “My son is kind of freaking out.” And Rick said, “Let me meet him.” Rick sat in my dad’s office chair, and my dad called me down. Rick said, “You like music?” And I said, “Yeah man, I like Slayer! And The Cult. But I don’t like the new Cult as much.” In 1992. He said, “Well, you should check out The Witch; I just got back with them. I think you’ll like it.” Rick signed my Electric album. My dad did business with Rick.
We went to Rick Rubin’s Hollywood home a couple of weeks later. There, an eight-foot polar bear greets one at the front door, claws out and arms extended at my face. And all the tables were adjourned by American flags as a tablecloth. CDs were stacked high in the kitchen with yellow tile; this was the center of Rick’s distribution operation. We went to his new house where lots of work was taking place. And in the Living Room above Pink Dot was the RHCP band kit in the living Room. Rick let me loose in his house. I saw the all-black and tinted Corvette. The all-black and tinted Rolls Royce. And the all-black and tinted Rick Rubin. In his bedroom was an all-black lacquer, space-age bedroom set. In a patio room above Sunset Blvd was a 300-year-old black lacquer Japanese chaise lounge in a starkly empty beige plaster room. He told me the chair was $60,000 dollars, and it was practically crumbling to ashes with a perfectly cracked black patina. I followed religiously everything Rubin has done since, as before, and I got many promo albums from him. I saw him again when Rick came back. He gave me The System Of A Down from his car, his brand-new band, and on it was written their complete philosophy with the iconic upside-down flag. I also got Sweet F.A.—and on the promo was written the story of the fire.
Love And Rockets struggled after that episode. But two years later, they produced a more lavish and indulgent electronic album, Lift. And at this time, electronica was at its peak popularity in the 1990s. I imagine it was the album they wanted to express before, with Genesis P-Orridge. Much in due respect to Perry Farrell and his other-worldly festivals like Enit, which we attended in the San Gabriel Mountains. Meat-Beat Manifesto and Lady Kier were headliners with an amazing Porno For Pyros. Lift fits in this milieu. Song “Resurrection Hex” sampled Bauhaus and hinted at a reunion. And after a show in 1999, that was it. Love and Rockets have not been recorded again. The band that formed as a fluke due to the failure of Peter Murphy to meet at rehearsal was no more.
Bauhaus had emerged from dimension ready for another interval. Bauhaus reformed with Resurrection Tour. After some sporadic tour runs and a live album release, Bauhaus recorded again in 2009. And Daniel Ash said it was completely tortured, and “He was amazed they pulled an album out of that session.” Costumes were constructed. The age, though twisted by politics and social division, seemed to work. But not the band. Go Away White was their last recording with Peter, and they did not promote or tour on the album. David J commented on the breakup: “You have a test tube, and you pour in one chemical, and you pour in another chemical, and something happens. It starts to bubble. Pour in another chemical, and it starts to bubble a bit more. You pour in a fourth chemical, and it bubbles really violently, and then explodes.” And yet the tour offers rolled in.
Poptone was a different opportunity to service the Tones on Tail music. This lineup gave David J and Daniel a break, as David J. was never in Tones on Tail. Kevin Haskins’ daughter Diva Dompé filled in on bass. The original Tones on Tail was a side project of Daniel’s that recruited Glenn Campling, his pal from art school and Bauhaus roadie. Stylistically, it is hard to place against the current Southern Lord scene in Los Angeles. But Daniel Ash made it work in a revamped dark manner. Kevin Haskins’ electronic drumming and daughter on a deep bass guitar filled this lineup. Daniel’s head was shaved into a mohawk and dreaded was a different affection. Letting his audience know he wasn’t afraid to change.
Now we are caught up in the timeline. Somehow ,15 years have gone by since the last Bubble Men had their day. David J. kind of stuck his neck out in a biography, and Daniel was pissed off about the exposure. These guys are very private. And there is a reason. They love a good adventure, and nothing would keep them in one place. David J. is young at heart and loves provocation. He would take his drag friends to a Russian Cabaret in West Los Angeles, and then on his own unique solo Living Room tour. While in Raleigh, he was provoked by one of his best local friends Joel, and totally against the law, they went in drag to go find trouble. They went into a public bathroom in Raleigh! Incredibly, the bathroom was unisex, security had informed them. Undeterred, they went to the State Capitol building. And there, they found what they were looking for… The Law! They were arrested right before a concert that David was to play that night. That being said, don’t threaten David J. with a good time. He is ready to play.
Tensions had thawed between the guys, and let’s face it. They got another fat offer from Cruel World. I thought to go, but festivals are hell anyway. Luckily the tour followed in 2023 and would wrap up in Los Angeles on June 20, and they sold out their entire run. Two nights were added here. The Ace is a great gothic venue once owned by Charlie Chaplin, and his film camera is in the lobby. This venue is tough on the security side. It seems like a small army is in there, they changed the rules because others abused the photography, and as for the band, “We love our audience.”
Now to the concert. “Angels and Devils” sounds in, and the theatre darkens. It has a 2001-type visual on an amazing custom AV set. The sun emerges from the dark side of Earth like a new day rising. The show begins, and the three dudes grace the stage. You know it’s not the same every night with them, despite a fairly locked setlist. Daniel Ash immediately lays into some bent chords that round the house from his Jerry Jones Longhorn Neptune Bass in abysmal charcoal. The bass comes in heavier than expected for a “pop” band. And you can see David J. is appointed by a gun-metal American Vintage II 1960 Precision Bass with a custom mirror plate. Like an art student, he has a small spotlight aimed at his guitar so he can look you if the face as he blinds you with it. “I Feel Speed” drifts in like a breeze. It’s like an out-of-body experience high above an ambulance scene. It’s haunting and remorseful. Lament for an unkind existence, and escapism at its finest. Be safe on your motorcycle, dude. “No Big Deal” bangs on the drums like an alley cat, much as if Tones on Tale. It’s a Hollywood contract gone wrong in lyrics. Rejection can teach you so much. Ash’s bass guitar is a buzzsaw from the garage days made choppy and raw.
Daniel Ash picks up a new mirrored Telecaster, “Kundalini Express,” and now things are getting hot. The catchy lyric is a romp. This is a gothic rock anthem with psychedelic overtones. Highs to lows expand while chimes and slide guitars go in circles. “Seventh Dream” brings the big toms component you expect from Camden. Kevin Haskins expresses his affection here for Siouxsie and Joy Division with a pounding heartbeat. The lyrics are like a kaleidoscope of growing pains. Don’t let the smoke get in your eyes. “Judgement Day” gives you pause and sedation, it has a 1960s buzz tone and tambourine with some romance. This song brings a contrast between bliss and angst with a haunting terror assembly of tearing guitar noise. Haunted When The Minutes Drag could be a Bauhaus song. It starts with a rockabilly jam and crashes on the senses with a smacking flat electronic drumbeat. The lyrics compile in passion, a crescendo, and a drop with a steampunk mechanism in the back.
Daniel’s 12-string, hollow-body Taylor guitar gets its due, strumming like a Vegas showman. “American Dream” plucks on acoustic with stars and stripes artfully spinning in a kaleidoscope behind the band, it drifts with longing. It builds in stride and gives you the loss of innocence that only Hollywood can deliver. “No New Tale To Tell” is sharp and black. These thin white dukes go full Bowie here. David J. gets to sing to the banal nihilism of print media with absurdity and some exclamation. “Our world is your world,” and this world will let you down. “So Alive” delivers as the hit song Daniel crushed while under pressure in the studio. It’s sultry and blissful with baritones. This is that song that just happened when it needed to and is their biggest hit. “Deep Deep Down” is your tabloid cut-up and dropped like tarot cards in the bathroom over a cigarette. Guitar chops and then scrambles with a wistful and holographic air. The bass is longing and subtle.
“My Dark Twin” goes back to the garage for some T-Rex psychedelic rock. “My Dark Twin is always there” is another Hollywood anecdote reflection on substances and elixirs. The light buzzes with opium and Buddhist bells; it’s like your death took place, and you look back at the living. The song is “new” to the audience, as unreleased from the Sweet F.A. sessions, recently acquired from Rick Rubin’s vaults. These new releases can be found on Beggars Banquits’ box sets. “My dark twin is acid, a razor for the tongue.” Ash utilizes an Ebow and a distortion pedal for the break and it sounds like a 747 making a bank turn through the sun.
“Mirror People” is another Bauhaus-infected Man Ray expedition. Filled with funhouse carnival band motifs, it speaks to the critic inside and the critic on the street. “Yin and Yang (The Flowerpot Man)” pick up like a bookend to “Kundalini Express,” fast-paced, bright, and transformative. It gives you companionship on a journey down a carpet gripping introspection to reveal a sky panning through a railroad bridge. Haunting sounds rush by like a car driving through Salvador Dali’s nightmare.
After a deserved intermission, Love and Rockets float like astronauts on the stage and they pick their instruments back up. On the backdrop is an 8K projection of the moon’s surface. The trio’s playfulness and camaraderie can be felt by the audience. The first shows were a little icy with some distant interactions. Now the boys are in arms and smiling. It has been a good and profitable run.
Holiday On The Moon commences in its downtrodden cynicism. “It’s such a wonderful time” is both sarcastic and literal, if it could be, but undoubtfully perilous. You “wouldn’t mind a holiday there, courtesy of NASA” as if to say, get me the farthest away possible from this place, Earth. No phones, no managers, no lawyers, no groupies, “such a wonderful time.” But only imagined. It’s an acid trip of howls and sorrow by songs end as the trappings of everyday life re-enter the room. Escapism at its finest.
“Love Me,” courtesy of the fantastic album Express from 1986, is again a soft parade. “The lesson is life” and “I’m only working so hard” is the dog end of a day gone by. The guitar is quintessential Ash, long and stretched, sustained. It is said that Love and Rockets created Alternative Music. They combined garage and psych with punk and made it dark. The band plays hard. The guitar will turn your ear. As a Hendrix fan, Daniel Ash unfurls his wah before you. And if you ask, he’ll tell you it was Hendrix’s pedal behind the recording; he owns it. He likes his HH Top amps and custom gear. “I opened it up and the wires aren’t stock,” he boasts proudly. Daniel’s guitar licks aren’t the main feature of the song, but they are there in the background. Like Mick Ronson on “Moonage Daydream,” they kick the door open at the end of a song and give you a way out to infinity. The guitar parts sound like a Buddhist gong and throng the air with vibration and then fade out.
“Ball of Confusion” takes you down with a shot of gunfire. It resets the night. It’s the reason why you are here, the revolution, remember? It’s a Love and Rockets punked-up anthem. The song harkens to the troubled 1960’s end in Vietnam with soul and political chaos that has never left the U.S. since. Ask yourself why this song is timeless in the Reagan era and now. Because the economic machines have bought you and your government. “And the band played on.” Racial injustice, running from the police with no place to hide. The lies of a candidate, the lost words of a preacher, the classroom that doesn’t care, the powerlessness of the people, the uncertain future, and you still can’t hide the color of the skin. “And the band played on.” It’s a cunning song by the Temptations based on the psychedelic turmoil of 1970.
David J’s deft bass is the signal. Brother Haskins’s snare is the gunfire. Ash is the chaos.
One last break off stage gives the audience bearing after an eye-filling punch. The band looks very content. “Sweet F.A.” is a personal message from the band to you. A childlike lullaby of innocence is reflected in a rearview mirror in Malibu on a drive-in a vintage sedan. The sun is setting, and the melodic Hollow-body reprise will calm you. “Fuck all else,” and don’t live for anyone else, “Or is your life is just like a grain of sand.” It’s a sweet and calming victory lap for a classic band that has been through it all. It’s a life of entertainment, it is hard, but does it matter? Daniel keeps his songs short and simple. The tools of a professional. Distilled by the ear of Rick Rubin, “Sweet F.A.” maintains timelessness and simplicity.
Now go buy some stuff. Get the expanded albums rereleased by Beggars Banquet on vinyl, and treat yourself. It doesn’t matter where you are going. Or from where you are coming. Fuck the world. Enjoy some artful music from a band from your days. Don’t worry, Love and Rockets will be back again. The money is too good. And these guys are literally brothers. And if not, you have this sweet memory. It is fleeting, but it is OK.
Love and Rockets
