The Sisters of Mercy shows there is life after ‘undeath’

Andrew Eldritch, the only remaining original band member of the Sisters of Mercy, is bald. This is an unavoidable fact.

There is an ongoing issue in the goth scene of ridiculing its most beloved singers as they age. Eldritch, as one of its longest-standing icons, has been widely mocked for losing his boyish good looks — most noticeably his mop of hair.

While this is undoubtedly a bit cruel, there remains the uncomfortable truth that an aging frontman means a changing band dynamic, and for many, getting older means an unavoidable vibe shift.

So seeing the Sisters of Mercy in the year 2024 is of course going to be different than attending their gigs in the ‘90s. Times change. But the way that the band has metamorphosed is, in many ways, highly ironic, and to a younger fan of ‘90s gothic rock, highly hilarious.

All was revealed at the group’s Oct. 8 show at the Fillmore in San Francisco, a sprawling, murky cave of a venue whose high ceiling burns with dramatic crystal chandeliers. The tableau is of course fit for goth royalty like Eldritch. But as red lights arose to reveal the man himself, he was flanked by two younger guitarists with –– what else –– incredible hair.

As Eldritch began the set with a low, almost imperceptible growl, the implicit mockery of the frontman’s hairless circumstances took center stage. He appeared shaky, unconfident, a grandfather passing the baton to the next generation of moody pretty boys. As the spindly arpeggio of “Alice” soaked through the audience, the hair began to move. A lot.

Guitarist and backup vocalist Ben Christo certainly warrants a comparison to Pete, the “hair flip” member of South Park’s clan of Goth Kids. His mane, cut into an exaggerated pompadour, was as self-aggrandizing as his low-slung guitar. Wherever the instrument moved, his hair was sure to follow, sweeping and swallowing his performance whole. At times Eldritch almost hid behind Christo, cowering beneath the sheer force of his masculine beauty.

Eldritch often aimlessly paced the stage, rumbling, grumbling and, at times, inexplicably freezing in an odd, statue-like position. Kai, the youngest member of the group at 31, shifted the focus by swinging his diabolically lengthy locks around like a coked-up metalhead.

But the undersung hero of the night came in the form of Chris Catalyst, another bald fellow with sunglasses and an epic, Matrix-esque coat. As the operator of Doktor Avalanche, the Sisters of Mercy drum machine, Catalyst grounded the chaos by sitting extremely still and looking unbearably bored. His cool aura was broken only once as he pushed his glasses further up his nose.

Without a consistent bassist, the acoustics were missing the band’s signature deep droning sound. Although Doktor Avalanche pulsed through the venue in menacing, cathartic waves, Eldritch’s vocals seemed lost amid a sea of distorted guitars. That said, he never lost his air of darkness and mystery. Once a goth king, always a goth king. And as one of the most important performers in the 1990s scene, he’s still commanding respect from his audience.

Over the years, the Sisters of Mercy have gone through many evolutions, but Andrew Eldritch has always remained their centripetal force. Whether or not he accepts his status in the goth hall of fame, he is still widely loved, summoning droves of black-clad freaks who enjoy his eerie music. The band is evidently struggling in the aftermath of Eldritch’s movement into midlife, but perhaps flanking him with the ghosts of his former self is a snide commentary on the inevitability of aging. After all, everyone grows old, and death is inescapable. But to keep on rocking despite the morbid circumstances? That’s pretty damn goth.