Albums That Loved Me Back #1

Christian Death: Catastrophe Ballet

I first heard about Christian Death from my first crush. When we first ended up on the same adult-jenior bowling league, this scrawny skater made little impression on me. But we gradually started to get to know one another and were soon friends. One summer he went away, and when he came back, he was Gothic!

I had never known a Goth before, and he suddenly intrigued me. Why was I so excited that he wore make-up and smoked cloves and talked about being depressed all the time?, I asked myself. The answer didn't occur to me until later.

He had told me about Christian Death but it took me a few months to get up the nerve to buy n album by a band with such an inflammatory name. I was sure as I was going to Hell as soon as I heard the version of "Spiritual Cramp" on The Iron Mask: "...Satan is by far the kindest beast..." I was a little put off but very curious. It started out slow, but my fascination took root.

I didn't acquire Catastrophe Ballet until I was seventeen. For a young gay man just coming out, this album provided a lot of subtle and overt references to homosexuality, which I desperately sought at the time. "...while the curious men with their curious smiles leave rejected in pairs, one by one, " Rozz sings on "Cervix Couch". It wasn't long before had played the album a hundred times, becoming a fan in the process.

Aside from the gloomy music, Christian Death had an irresistable mythos surrounding them. Rozz Williams started the band in the early 1980's, but the original line-up broke up after one album, Only Theatre of Pain. He then teamed up with Valor and Gitane Demone, then of Pompeii 99, to record Catastrophe Ballet, in my opinion the best work any of them would ever do. After Ashes, Rozz left the band with the understanding that Valor would no longer use the name. However, Valor broke his promise and not only began using the name Christian Death, but started taking credit for songs written by Rozz before Valor joined the band.

It seemed everyone had a story about Rozz. Did Shadow really lend Rozz her skull-buckle Italian leather boots in London? Did Scott really fuck Rozz in Frisco? Did Aviva really slam dope with him in Santa Monica? All of the speculations added to the mystique for me.

On April 1, 1998, I read the news online. I thought it was an April Fool's Day joke. Hadn't Groovie Mann from Thrill Kill Kult spread rumors of his own death the previous year? But alas, it was no joke. Rozz had hanged himself. I was saddened by the realization that I would never have a chance to see him live. I thought about the show he and Gitane had planned two years before in Mesa. It had been cancelled because they had been detained on drug charges. I was disappointed when my friends and I showed up, but we had no idea at the time that the show was cancelled forever.

I once loved Rozz because he made me sad; upon learning of his death, I hated him for the same reason.

I listened to Catastrophe Ballet today for the first time in I don't remember how long. For some reason, the songs made me smile. I guess that, knowing what I know now, I can finally remember Rozz and his legacy with gratitude.