One from The Vault: Bauhaus: Press the Eject and Give Me The Tape

ALBUM REVIEW: Bauhaus' live LP from 1982.

Bauhaus: Press The Eject and Give Me The Tape

Beggars Banquet Records

1982

Recorded live in London and Liverpool Oct/Nov 1981 and Feb 1982.

LIVE ALBUMS

I can count the number of live albums I think are worthwhile on one hand: Stiff Little Fingers’ Hanx!, The Cure’s Concert, Weld by Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Thin Lizzy’s Alive and Dangerous, and this, Bauhaus’ Press the Eject And Give Me The Tape.

If I had six fingers I’d add Motörhead’s No Sleep ‘til Hammersmith.

Thankfully, live albums are delivered far less frequently now than they used to be. Too often they felt exactly like what they were; contractual obligations released as cut-price introductions to a band on their ascent. Cash cows.

Often the domain of heavy rock and metal bands because of the hand-in-hand nature of their music and and the live environment, the live album has thankfully followed them to the bar at the back of the room and on to the urinals.

Live LPs can come a little too close to bootlegs for my liking - with their shitty sound quality and knocked-out packaging; quick releases to cash in, without as much attention to detail paid to them as ‘real’ releases have.

That lack of sincerity can make me wince. Weirdly, a live LP feel more sincere to me if it includes the much-maligned post-performance studio overdubs. At least that shows an intent to refine and invest in the product, rather than just throw any old crap at the market and the fans.

I have (what I consider to be) a healthy disdain for compilations for the same reason.

In both cases, you generally get a collection of singles and the band’s most popular tracks. I can oviously see how this makes commercial sense but it can feel like a disservice to the artistry of the Deep Cut and the joy of The Grower - nine times out of ten, the reasons we love and invest in a band in the first place.

Nevertheless, the examples I mention at the start succeed, and become key releases in their respective band’s discographies.

Press the Eject… might be the finest example of them all.

PRESS THE EJECT…

One of the reasons it’s so successful is the energy, confidence and swagger of the performance - and the band’s willingness to fuck with the arrangements live, compared to the studio versions. The Man With X-Ray Eyes is a great example of this. A favourite track of mine anyway, its familiar dubby bounce is slowed right down to a belly-crawl here, lending its usual light-hearted tone a sinister, threatening vibe and completely deepening its scope.

Another reason Press the Eject… is a winner is the quality of the recording. Yes - it’s live, so it’s raw and uncompromising; beautifully rough around the edges, but everything has its own space and clarity in the mix. There’s no mud at all. The instrumentation is just as dynamic and clear as any of the studio albums.

The set is not made up of “hits”; only three of the eleven songs of the LP were singles - and one of those was Bela - which surely doesn’t count, because if one song has to be there, then Bela must be it… the rest are album tracks from In The Flat Field and Mask.

The be-suited, suave and sophisticated Bauhaus of She’s in Parties, Maxell tape ads and Ziggy covers were still a year or two off when this was recorded - (mainly) on Hall’o’ween night (of course) in 1981 at Liverpool’s Royal Court and the following February at The Old Vic in London.

Incidentally - neither venue appears to put on gigs anymore. Just plays and family entertainment. That seems a shame because the sound of both venues is great.

The performance captures Bauhaus at their most brawling, gritty and confrontational. The comparative sheen of The Sky’s Gone Out and Burning From The Inside was just around the corner, but this was at the height of Pete Murphy’s leotard-wearing, curtain-swinging, lizard-crawling, cock-thrusting agitational exhibitionism. The authority with which he address the audience/press pit: “Hide your cameras; my feet eat them for dinner…” suggests a man at the top of his game.

… AND GIVE ME THE TAPE

The set starts with the rapturous rolling toms of an immaculately presented (and slightly quicker) In The Flat Field.

Murphy’s brilliant poetry can be heard more clearly live:

“A gut pull drag on me

Into the chasm gaping we

Mirrors multi-reflecting this

Between spunk-stained sheet and odorous whim

Camera eye-flick-shudder within!

Assist me to walk away in sin

Where is the string that Theseus laid

Find me out this labyrinth place…

I get bored! I do get bored… in the Flat Field.”

I grew up in Norfolk, so I recognise the sentiment.

With a grunt and a groan, we lurch from that bowed horizon to Rosegarden Funeral of Sores - the band’s enigmatic and powerful cover of an obscure John Cale B-Side. Danny Ash’s screams and smashed guitar distort the recording slightly, emphasising the live power of it.

Mask highlights Dancing and Man With X-Ray Eyes follow, before side one slides into an eerie close with a version of Bela Lugosi’s Dead that outstrips the original.

*Live photo copyright Em1977@verizon.net

Slowing down slightly, side two begins with the paranoid Spy In The Cab, followed by the dub funk of Kick in the Eye and a hyper In Fear of Fear, before the standout of this side is washed over us; the haunting Hollow Hills.

I love this song anyway and the live version, to me, is the quintessential version of it. David J’s wandering bass and the distance of Murphy’s vocals just add more spookiness to proceedings. Danny Ash’s whining guitar creates creaks and creeps in the background and despite Kevin Haskins having barely anything to do in the song, when the lonely slump of his floor toms do toll, his presence is felt as the epitome of “less is more”.

Because Hollow Hills is so recessed, when the high hat tap and repetitive sliding riff of Stigmata Martyr begin, you feel jolted awake from a blissful slumber. It’s a close second on this side to Hollow Hills. It’s an action-packed and adrenalised performance; Murphy screams particularly desperately against the string squeak of Ash’s guitar as we arrive at what genuinely feels like an encore…

A sinister chuckle from Murphy launches Dark Entries and as its blistering distortion and devilish marching parade drums, wailing feedback and wind effects wane to a close we hear someone - presumably a security guy - instruct an audience member curtly to “Press the eject and give me the tape out of it”, before a sharp button press stops album abruptly.

It ends so quickly that you can almost see the house lights come up too brightly, exposing a floor of plastic pint glasses and detritus. Squinting, you shuffle through it towards to the exit, ears ringing and busting for a piss.

I wonder what the merch was like?

The album packaging itself is okay. The artwork is striking; Murphy shielding himself behind a crash cymbal. The minimal white inner sleeve only displays one small photo and the bare bones information; track list and credits.

My copy is old. Really old. It crackles in the quiet passages. It’s got a £2.50 price sticker on it. In the last few years it’s been remastered and reissued in white vinyl (2022) and remastered and as a standard edition in (2024), both by Beggars Banquet. It probably costs close to ten times what it was back then.

Regardless, go and find a copy and wish you were there. It’s worth it.