The Creatures
Wild Things

Mad Eyed Screamer

Struck by the song of the Queen of the Night,

families of timpani, drums, and timbales, wild beasts, and dark woods.

- Inside our bedrooms / so close so far -

They saw a madman in Hyde Park, consumed in the dance amid people's indifference,

a Nouvelle "Dancing Plague".

"Could be a preacher, an angel of the Mud, tired of overlooking his own existence,

could just be a teacher wanting to queue up to ask two questions to your Creator"

Gothic labyrinths hit and raided by that barbaric and tribal tam tam, in the triumph and repudiation of any mild spiral of native ElectroClash.

In the background, Love and Hate, reflections of faces shrouded by shadows and broken features, intertwined and blinded by that fire of annihilation.

How to describe that undefined love for the rhythmic virtuosity of Budgie, that autistic rhythm which becomes traction and contraction, which irreversibly marked the maudit and kaleidoscopic sound of End - Banshees and Beginning - Creatures.

How to describe that jealousy for that villainous nudity ostentatiously shown by him, without veils and any shame, in that Man Ray painting, the rogue cover of the album filched from a montage of Perkins in "Psycho", that ravenous intrusion into the shower space of that dark Vestal of hate and love, with that so dark makeup and that mmm so fetish aesthetic.

Also because in that mantra, in that obsession, in the electric tension of bodies and the logic of the tribute to Hitchcock, there truly lies the Genesis of the Banshees.

Eras had passed, glacial, dark, and seminal, since that chaotic Big Bang of that ramshackle 20-minute version of “The Lord’s Prayer“, in that club set up as the band's maternity ward, with an unusual Sid Vicious on drums, the first cries of the lioness and the first appearances on Tony Wilson's punk-heavy TV show, “So It Goes“.

And then it’s just a moment that rallying cry, with the release of The Scream, the arrival of Casanova Budgie on drums, the artistic partnership Severin-Siouxsie, at least until the release of Juju, then all that mess with prima donnas coming and going (John McGeoch from Magazine and Visage, Robert Smith from The Cure, Jon Klein)

And like all great Artists, Siouxsie Sioux, even when in full Eighties (do you remember the Kemp brothers from Spandau?) with that powerful voice, with those stories of rapes, dysfunctional families, and mental illnesses, with that nervous but also so clubbing music, finally shapes from the shimmering world of MTV that Perfect Obsession, what does she do at the peak of her journey?

She falls in love with a fool and runs away with him into the Black Forest.

And from that tribal excursion, among primitive percussions and surreal chants, in that pre-Raphaelite semi-nudity of Ophelia, the birth of that parallel project during the recording of the album "Juju".

That astral combination of voice and drums, that shift towards ethnic contaminations, preview of the exotic sensuality of "Feast", a composition of five tracks not easy to listen to.

That obsession that retraced the lost movement from the day of its consecration...

Wild Things. (Handle with Care)