from the EP Burning the Fields, Tower Release Records, 1985One (the only?) constant within the gothic subculture through the decades has been a heavy focus on one’s outer appearance, wholly conceding the importance of image as symbolism and rejoicing in the power that’s inherent to a deviant likeness, even though kids can now buy their outfits pre-made for them ala Hot Topic (looking scary used to require a great deal more effort). British rockers Fields of the Nephilim (that is one hell of a name) distinguished themselves from many other goth acts by embracing a more apocalyptic wardrobe, less bat cave and more WWIII morning-after; frankly, with those goggles and dirty leather dusters they looked a bit like extras from the set of Mad Max, but they’ve committed themselves to it ever since their inauguration unto the frowning masses, so way to keep that up! “Singer” Carl McCoy never has been able to carry a tune all that well, so it’s a good thing that he was singing about deeply twisted shit, and even better that drummer ‘Nod’ Wright happens to be a polyrhythmic prodigy on the skins. Put on your pout!!
