We reached the Electric Factory in Philadelphia somewhere in the middle of Tapping the Vein's set. They were technically decent if uninteresting, with a singer who sounded like Pat Benatar.

The 3600 capacity venue had sold out for the first Sisters of Mercy performance in the U.S. since 1991 and their only North American stop on their current tour. The Factory (which was reminiscent of a large high school gym) was packed to the rafters, and the line for Sisters of Mercy merchandise stretched halfway across the room.

People were wandering around in T-shirts that said "Sad Old Goth" or "Jesus Loves the Sisters." More than a few were wearing Sunshine Blind T-shirts, a silent protest on behalf of one of the two opening bands who were unceremoniously dumped from the bill by Eldritch five days before. According to representatives for Sunshine Blind and The New Creatures (the other band who were dropped from the bill), the opening bands had to pay for the advertising for the show as a condition of their performance, and were dropped once the advertising was done. The New Creatures' drummer, Tiger Kern, is suing, according to MTV news (http://www.mtv.com/news/headlines/970627/story7.html).

As the story goes, Eldritch had approved the bands based on their music, but claims to have had difficulty procuring photographs of the bands from the show's promoter, Patrick Rodgers of Dancing Ferret Productions. A week before the show, Eldritch went online to try to find images of the bands. Based on the photographs he found on the Sunshine Blind website (http://www.pitt.edu/~amkst38/Sunshine.htm) and The New Creatures website (http://members.wbs.net/homepages/t/h/e/thenewcreatures.html), Eldritch determined that they looked "too goth" and insisted they be removed from the bill.

Rumor has it that Eldritch also thought that the photos on my Switchblade Symphony page were too goth as well, but that some sort of "compromise" was reached to allow Switchblade Symphony to play. The New Creatures, a dark rock outfit from New York City, were replaced by Philadelphia's Tapping the Vein, while Sunshine Blind were replaced by their Energy Records labelmates, metal-industrialists Heavy Water Factory.

According to members of The New Creatures, when Rodgers asked Eldritch how the two jettisoned bands could be compensated, Eldritch replied, "Put their heads on fucking pikes in front of the venue!" Eldritch has reportedly said "I hate g*th and g*ths, and anything to do with the scene," and wishes to be referred to as an "industrial alternative" act.

Many people in the crowd seemed well aware of the situation. In the ladies' room, flyers for a Chicago-based promotion company stated flatly, "Industrial alternative? Fuck off, Andrew Eldritch. Goths are doing it for themselves."

The audience was, of course, overwhelmingly gothic-looking. Probably less than one out of every ten people were lacking in an item of flowing black clothing, heavy eyeliner, or some other accoutrement that marked them as gothic. In general, they were not pleased with the choice of the metalesque Heavy Water Factory as an opener. When HWF announced that they were about to play their last song, the statement was greeted with applause.

Switchblade Symphony, the current darlings of the gothic world, were greeted with more enthusiasm. "Wow," said singer Tina, looking out over the crowd. "There are so many of you." Guitarist George Earth snapped a picture of the packed hall as a memento.

They seemed a bit nervous; it was almost certainly the largest crowd for whom they've performed as a band. They played the short set that was characteristic of their just-completed headlining tour. "Dollhouse" and "Dissolve" from their album "Serpentine Gallery" were represented. Tina also announced their hit "Clown," but there was apparently technical difficulty, because she then announced a replacement. They did several songs from their upcoming album, which Tina said would be released in August. George was quick to correct her, though. "September," she amended.

Unfortunately, the sound was all-too obviously calibrated for The Sisters of Mercy. Switchblade Symphony's drums and guitar were way too high in the mix, and their vocals and keyboards were too low. The overall effect was a somewhat muddy sound, with less apparent differentiation between songs than they usually display.

Still, Tina kept her bravado, slipping into her demented school-girl marching in place with confidence, and George was energetic and jumping around the stage.

DJ Shock filled in the time between sets with fairly standard goth club music (Love and Rockets, Machines of Loving Grace, Lush, Sinead O'Connor's "I Am Stretched on Your Grave") but also treated the crowd to a sneak preview of an unreleased track from Xymox's upcoming new album.

The Sisters of Mercy had a long intro, of course, as the stage began to fill with smoke. Andy and his guitarist and bassist came out to deafening applause and launched into "Vision Thing." Andrew had short blond hair and was wearing his trademark shades (although they've evolved from classic, squarish black to round and purplish) and a jacket. The overall effect was reminiscent of David Bowie.

His voice was extremely gravely as he sang "25 whores in the room next door. 25 floors and I need more." I think that for a split second we were all afraid that we'd been duped; that this man before us who was reportedly claiming $30,000 for this appearance was an aging ruin, a mere shadow trying to cash in on past glories before passing into obscurity. And then he cleared his throat.

The thrill hit. So many of us had never seen him before; he hadn't seemed real. When hearing that all-too familiar voice merged with seeing this man on stage, the rush came. Yes, this *was* worth twelve hours in a car and a total of $80. So many others spent so much more. Sisters of Mercy tattoos adorned backs and legs and shoulders throughout the hall. For many of us, this was the holy grail of concerts, and we knew it.

The lights were stunning. A wall of dozens of individual sweeping lights towered behind the band, programmed specifically for each song. "One thousand points of light," Andrew sang, and thin white beams flashed around wildly. "One blinding flash of sense," and bright white lit up the whole crowd.

"Ribbons" was next, and the lights were red, like flowers on a razor wire, with a little bit of purple light crashing out of them. Watching the crowd was exhilarating, too. All those rows and rows and rows of bodies swathed in black, with white faces bathed in blood red light.

We were goths, overwhelmingly and undeniably. And so was he. When he took off his jacket to reveal a Motorhead T-shirt, he was dressed in head-to-toe black topped by bleached-white hair. His voice was the voice of Andrew Eldritch, the impossibly deep bass with a hint of tears that has inspired so many imitators. He emoted dramatically and passionately, crouching about the stage at times. He still sang about black winds calling his name no more. Smoke was everywhere. He performed some new songs, but they could easily have appeared on his album "Vision Thing," and any desire to be known as "industrial alternative" has not changed his music.

"We are the Sisters of Mercy," he said. "And we are a rock and roll band." Whatever he wants to call himself, we are still his children. Bands like Sunshine Blind and the New Creatures exist because of the musical climate that he helped to create. Many of us look like we do because of fashion ideals that have trickled down from him, and from his former bassist, Patricia Morrison.

He can hate us if he wants, but he shares our blood. When all is said and done, "goth" is simply the label that has been applied to people who sound or look like him or share the aesthetic he has and does promote. And he has turned against us. "This is from my new album on Cleopatra Records," he said. "It's called Butt-Fucked. Yeah, RIGHT! But *you'd* probably believe that."

The set included "Temple of Love," "The Giving Ground," "Under the Gun," "Flood," "Alice" and "Detonation Boulevard." There were two encores. He thanked us before leaving the stage, and bowed deeply each time applause called him back. He performed "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd, seguing it into his own "Some Kind of Stranger." He did "Something Fast." And he ended with "This Corrosion." The audience chimed in with "Hey now, hey now, hey now, sing this corrosion to me." The second time, he cued us.

It hurts to know that he won't accept what we have created from his cues. The next day, the road back to Pittsburgh was littered with carloads full of goths. Every other rest stop was inhabited by others with long black hair or gothic rock T-shirts. It was stunningly self-evident that we were all returning from the same pilgrimage. No one dressed as we were could possibly dream of driving on this highway in large groups for any other purpose. We started right in with "Where are you from," or "What did you think?"

We came all the way from Detroit, from rural Ohio, from Canada. It's hard to keep from loving the man who raised you. Even when you've been disowned.