šÆļø Temple of Love: How the Sisters of Mercy Brought Gothic Shadows to the Dancefloor
The Twelve Inch 183 : Temple Of Love (Sisters Of Mercy)
In just a few weeks Halloween will be here, and when it comes to picking the perfect party soundtrack, few genres fit better than goth. Think pale performers in black lace and leather, a touch of the macabre, and vocals that sound like theyāve drifted back from the grave, no other music feels quite as at home with the spooky season.
This weekās pick, āTemple of Loveā, was an underground dancefloor staple in 1983. I carried it with me everywhere I played. The moment I saw a group of black-clad kids heading toward the booth, I already knew what they were going to ask for. At the time, I didnāt quite grasp the allure of goth, but over the years Iāve learned to appreciate it, especially through the later work of two of the sceneās most enduring names: The Sisters of Mercy and The Mission.
This week, weāll focus on the former, revisiting their first big underground hit, a track that would (in a remix version) also be their last.
So, dust off your black gear, and letās dive in.
š Welcome, Iām Pe Dupre, thanks for stopping by.
This is The Twelve Inch, my newsletter about the history of dance music from 1975 to 1995, told one twelve-inch record at a time.
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š Who Were The Sisters of Mercy?
The Sisters of Mercy formed in Leeds in 1980, the brainchild of Andrew Eldritch and Gary Marx. Their name, surprisingly, came not from religious imagery but from Leonard Cohenās song āSisters of Mercyā, a wink to Cohenās poetic melancholy. From the very beginning, they cultivated a darkly theatrical image: black clothes, fog-filled stages, and Eldritchās unmistakable baritone voice.
They emerged after the first wave of goth bands, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, and soon became leaders of a second wave that gained momentum in 1983ā84. In many ways, that wave was a reaction against the slick optimism of āNew Popā acts like ABC, The Human League, and Spandau Ballet. And yet, goth and New Pop shared one trait: both embraced glamour and star power, moving away from post-punkās anti-mystique stance.
The Sisters, however, didnāt see themselves as a goth band at all. They called themselves a rock band, or perhaps we should say, a parody of one. Where other post-punk groups rejected rockās clichĆ©s, the Sisters leaned into them. The twist was their use of a drum machine instead of a drummer. That choice gave their songs a relentless, mechanical pulse that made them more danceable than most guitar-driven bands of the time. Whether the parody was intentional or not, no one, not even the band themselves, could ever quite say where the joke started or ended.
What also set them apart was ambition. Eldritch never wanted to stay a cult figure on the UKās fringes. He aimed for the big stage. That drive carried the Sisters from their independent beginnings on their own label, Merciful Release, to a major deal with Warner Music.
š„ Doctor Avalanche: The Most Reliable Band Member
The Sisters of Mercy were never known for a stable line-up, guitarists drifted in and out, and entire factions splintered into rival bands. But one member never left: Doktor Avalanche, their ever-present drum machine.
The Doktorās first form was a BOSS DR-55 (āDoctor Rhythmā), later upgraded to a Roland TR-606, then a TR-808, and briefly a TR-909. On the album First and Last and Always, an Oberheim DMX carried the title. In more recent years, the āDigital Doktorā has lived inside a custom-built laptop designed by Eldritch and assembled by an English military software and hardware company.
Doktor Avalanche even ārunsā the advice column on the bandās official website. š
As Eldritch once explained:
Within the goth scene, the enduring joke became that āthe drum machine had the longest career in goth rock.ā
šø A Genre Between Shadows and Strobe Lights
So what genre did The Sisters of Mercy really belong to? On paper, they were filed under goth rock. In reality, Andrew Eldritch rejected the label outright. He was consistently outspoken about the goth scene, dismissing it as a media invention rather than an identity the band ever claimed. In interview after interview, he argued that āgothā was far too narrow a box for a group that drew on such a wide range of influences.
Their fans, however, had no doubts. You could spot them instantly: black, teased hair, ruffled Regency shirts, leather, and spiked dog collars.
As Eldritch once put it:
Meanwhile, clubs approached them from another angle. With Doktor Avalanche laying down steady 4/4 beats, DJs had something solid to work with. Dark yet danceable, tracks like Alice and Temple of Love slipped seamlessly into both goth nights and alternative dance floors, bridging the gap between post-punk guitars and electronic precision.
š® The Breakthrough: Temple of Love (1983)
Released in 1983, Temple of Love was a stand-alone single and the bandās first real breakthrough. Driven by pounding percussion, shimmering guitars, and Eldritchās mesmeric baritone spouting cryptic, fevered lines, it was unlike anything else on the dancefloor.
Iāve often wondered what those lyrics are really about. On the surface: lust, power, surrender. But looking deeper is like tumbling into a rabbit hole. Interpretations abound. Eldritch wrote as if heād been steeped in both Baudelaire and the tabloid press.
The single became a club hit across Europe, especially in Germany, where the Sisters quickly built a devoted following. In the UK, it topped the indie charts but never broke through to the pop Top 40. Still, that indie No. 1 was enough to turn heads in the industry, and it was Warner who eventually signed them.
š Two Temples: 1983 vs. 1992
Why did Andrew Eldritch revisit Temple of Love in 1992? By then, The Sisters of Mercy were essentially on hiatus. To promote the compilation Some Girls Wander by Mistake, he re-recorded the track with Israeli-Yemeni singer Ofra Haza. In a 1992 interview with Canadian magazine Siren, Eldritch explained, in typically grand fashion, why Temple of Lovewas chosen: āBecause itās stunning, glorious and generally wonderful.ā
According to him, the record company doubted that a back-catalog compilation would sell without something new attached. The remix was their compromise.
Ofra Hazaās soaring vocal added a powerful Middle Eastern intensity that transformed the song. āShe did one take and we had to peel ourselves off the ceiling⦠and she did another, and we had to peel ourselves off the ceiling again. And so it went on. Awesome.ā
The 1992 version went on to become the bandās biggest chart success, climbing into the UK Top 3. Fans remain divided but often embrace both: the original for its raw urgency, the re-recording for its sheer grandeur.
In theory, this remix should have set the stage for a new era. Instead, label politics derailed momentum. When the band was shifted within the Warner Music system, tensions boiled over. Eldritch responded by refusing further releases. To fulfill his contract, he delivered one final āalbumā under the name Feel No Pain, credited not to The Sisters of Mercy but to the āSSV Project.ā Its full, infamous acronym read:
SSV-NSMABAAOTWMODAACOTIATW: Screw Shareholder Value ā Not So Much A Band As Another Opportunity To Waste Money On Drugs And Ammunition Courtesy Of The Idiots At Time Warner.š
šŗšø Did They Make It in America?
The Sisters of Mercy never became a household name in the US, but they carved out a niche on alternative and college radio. Tracks like This Corrosion and Lucretia My Reflection got MTV airplay, and their tours drew respectable crowds. Still, they never crossed into the pop mainstream like Depeche Mode or The Cure.
One of their most notorious outings was a joint tour with Public Enemy. Both bands drew very different fanbases, and the clashes often turned ugly. Some shows ended in fights; others were canceled altogether.
.
Eldritch, however, remembers it differently:
š The Sisters and the Dancefloor
So why do the Sisters matter in the story of dance music? Because they proved that āgothā could be danceable. Their songs turned up not just in smoke-filled basements in Leeds, but in European clubs where DJs were experimenting with synthpop, EBM, and early house.
Think of Temple of Love as a bridge: guitars and shadows on one side, pounding beats and flashing strobes on the other. Without bands like The Sisters of Mercy, the link between post-punk rock and the club culture of the late 1980s would be far weaker.
They even had a Jim Steinman produced epos
š Legacy of the Temple
By the early 90s, The Sisters of Mercy might had stopped releasing new music, but their influence endured. You hear their DNA in industrial dance acts, in darkwave DJs, and even in modern techno producers who sample their icy basslines.
The Doctor still beats on, Eldritch continues to tour under the Sisters name, with Avalanche upgraded to the latest tech. In the end, maybe thatās the real story: while humans falter, the machine keeps the dance alive.
š¬ Your Turn
Do you remember the first time you heard Temple of Loveāwas it the raw 1983 original or the grand 1992 Ofra Haza version? Did you dance to it in a club, or did it stay a soundtrack for late-night headphones?
Share your memories belowāIād love to hear how the Sisters of Mercy crossed your path.
Further reading (or should I say watching)
There are a number of interesting videoās/links :
So You Wanna Hear More ?
I thought you would !
Itās fun to write about music but letās be honest. Music is made to listen to.
Every week, together with this newsletter, I release a 1 hour beatmix on Mixcloud and Soundcloud. I start with the discussed twelve inch and follow up with 10/15 songs from the same timeframe/genre. The ideal soundtrack forā¦. Well whatever you like to do when you listen to dance music.
Listen to the Soundtrack of this weekās post on MIXCLOUD
Or on Youtube :
So whatās in this weekās mix ?
The set opens with the original 1983 mix of The Sisters of Mercyās āTemple of Love,ā leading us into the gothic rock/new wave soundscape of the early 1980s, where guitars collide with relentless dance beats.
Youāll hear Devo, The Cure, Ultravox, Yello, Soft Cell, along with Joy Division, X-Mal Deutschland, and Echo & the Bunnymen. Iāve slipped in the French version of Department Sās classic āIs Vic There,ā and Berlin Expressā āDie Russen Kommen,ā a reminder of how some early-eighties alternative gems still feel strikingly current.
The finale comes courtesy of an American trio: Billy Idol, Until December, and Slow Children, closing out this weekās aural assault.
Enjoy! š¶
Next week Iām zooming in on one of the big voices of the disco era. I kinda expected her to have a big career after her big disco hits, but it didnāt work out. I want to know why. Next week weāll discuss Linda Clifford
What a great deep dive into a band I think I may have heard of but certainly didn't know enough about. Fascinating story, and I'm already obsessed with Doktor Avalanche š¤£
I loved how you showcased that goth can actually be danceable, and your memories when goths would often ask you to spin their main track.
Your career retrospectives and industry analysis, Pe, is always so insightful, and such a pleasure to read.
There was a period in my early teens where The Sisters, The Mission, Killing Joke, The Cure, The Cult (and their two forerunners) were musical north stars for me. They were all firmly categorized as āgothā in my mind but back then the musical labels felt so fixed and less flexible than they are nowadays.
Iād not heard the Ofra Haza version of Temple of Love. I still prefer the original but it was fantastic.