Single Awareness: Bauhaus – “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” (1979)

To be totally honest, I am a bit indifferent to Bela Lugosi as a horror actor. As far as major icons go, he is someone that I want to love more, but he just comes across as goofy in his prime roles. For as much as I enjoy White Zombie (1932), I think the silent film has one of those fatal mistakes of relying so much on how horrifying you find his eyes. They’re in a constant close-up, asking up to find something tormented inside of them. It becomes more prevalent by Dracula (1931) where his most iconic performance was born, giving life to the archetype that every vampire performance is compared to. 

He was the sexy, seductive type who drew you in. While I admire his ability to act with his face, it’s something that hasn’t aged as well as Conrad Veidt using nothing but his eyes in The Man Who Laughs (1928). I don’t think he has as much timelessness. I know it’s controversial to say, but I find him more interesting in his lesser roles, such as in Ninotchka (1939) where he’s required to be more expressive with his whole body. Frankly, I’m willing to believe that there’s a whole dramatic career worthy of exploring had Dracula never taken off. 

But that’s not why I’m here. I chose in light of his birthday on October 20 to celebrate a song written in his honor. As someone who admires the Universal Horror moniker, I have to pay my respect to Lugosi, and the only way to do it is the same way that Bauhaus did it: in a bit of a wonky fashion. There’s no reason to think that “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” was a song referencing current events, as he had died 23 years prior. Still, there was plenty of fun novelty of exhuming his memory for the sake of a fun nine-minute opus that launched a genre of music.

Reading up on the song, it’s amazing to note that the song that arguably launched Gothic rock was part of a session that included songs about Debbie Harry as well as songs whose sound ranged from power-pop to ska. You wouldn’t think that a band associated with such dark and morose textures would have songs about Blondie in their canon, and yet this whole experience was a fun exercise in trying to figure out just what their sound would be. By some luck (or misfortune), this would end up being their most popular song. It was a great way to start their career, and a perfect way to induct Gothic rock. After all, aren’t vampires chic?

I’ll confess that my familiarity with Bauhaus is very limited. Beyond this song, I do not know much about them. Still, there is something to be said for a song that serves as a tribute to a long-dead icon who continues to impact horror fans’ lives from beyond the grave. You could imagine the band actually going to his gravesite and trying to summon him, bringing him back to witness their hero, gestating in silence, waiting to be freed. That’s to presume he really was a vampire and that these guys were really as nutty as you’d expect.

Still, as someone who has an infatuation for that era, I understand the desire to make the song, especially with a name as attention-grabbing. I suppose your interpretation of the song will reveal how much you’re willing to go along with Gothic rock, to begin with. If you hear “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” and think that it’s overstating the obvious, then you won’t buy into its Transylvanian imagery. If you are willing to humor Bauhaus for nine minutes, you’ll find something feels highly reminiscent of the 1930s horror movies, managing to exist as this atmospheric nod that is a few zithers short of a full-on tribute.

There is an old horror sound that we all know instinctually, but it’s often difficult to explain if you only spend a few minutes here or there with it. It’s different from the classic Max Steiner-esque score that we associate with the era. It’s one full of deep notes as if the melody died centuries ago and is buried underneath the ground. You need those tubas and bass-lines playing under a whooshing hush of wind, adding clangs that symbolize jolts and frights. The thing is that it’s ominous, constantly feel obtuse enough that it’s noticeable, but only bothers you if you think about it too much. The idea of faint noises can’t help but raise paranoia that there is something off in the distance, waiting to attack you. The score is designed to make you feel like you’re outside, facing a horrifying barrage of situations.

Of course, that’s an abstract understanding of two decades’ worth of horror scores, which eventually would shift into something more melodramatic and sensational. Still, it feels like the perfect way to explain what Bauhaus ultimately achieves with this score. Even in the case that this was a novelty song, it feels more indebted to those classic horror monsters than contemporary music. So what if the guitars have the downbeat tempo of ska (but more drawn out)? It still has that drawn-out quality, forcing you to doubt yourself. Are the lyrics ever going to kick in? Is it just going to clang with horrifying noise at a certain point? 

For the most part, the first three minutes have this meditative quality that is infectious. The atmosphere is perfect, finding a running bass-line and drums sounding monotonous. At a certain point, it just becomes part of you, relaxing you into this cold, desolate track. There is so much space between the instruments, and you feel like you’re waiting for the singer to show up, sharing whatever horrifying news he has to share. Did they murder Lugosi? What is going on here?

Peter Murphy enters to present a eulogy. You can imagine a cup of the blood being lifted in a toast as he details the major shift:

White on white translucent black capes

Back on the rack

Bela Lugosi's dead

The bats have left the bell tower

The victims have been bled

Red velvet lines the black box

The detail in those six lines is perfect and concise. It captures the iconography so clearly that you immediately conjure the feeling of being in a castle about to change. It’s ambiguous enough to wonder if the bats leaving the bell tower is the world growing less “batty” in his absence, or if they’re scouring the world for a new leader. Maybe they’ll fall onto the shoulders of Christopher Lee. Still, it ends with the news of “the black box,” symbolizing a casket. It’s made of red velvet, something nice. Again, is this a eulogy, or is this (as the song later alludes) raising him? To quote Bram Stoker, Murphy will later go on to suggest that he is “undead.” 

Undead as a term was used more in the Stoker novel than vampire. Bauhaus reverently does this without alluding to Dracula directly. It’s not clear if Murphy opened the casket and unleashed Lugosi onto the world, or if this tribute is one that has sinister undertones. The song continues by referencing virginal brides and dead flowers “in deathly bloom.” Again, there’s the direct reference to it, and then the curiosity as to whether this is heading something. After all, the undead was once dead, so is this all some commentary on him being a vampire?

Of course, it should be noted that this all has a wonderful atmosphere, able to use the bass in alternating rhythms. It slows to a crawl as the guitars and drums pick up, maybe reflective of a heard or a step. The instruments become as crucial as the leading vocals, creating something reminiscent of those old horror movies, alluding to some motion that is unseen. Are the screeching guitars that enter towards the end of the song symbolic of something greater? Maybe it’s just a way of tearing everything down, making you realize that everything has a finite conclusion, that the casket lid is being closed.

In all honesty, this song doesn’t need direct answers and I love that it’s more of a tone poem than a traditional song. It’s something that grapples with the idea of mortality while symbolizing the birth of a band. Will they have the longevity of Lugosi? While some can see it as piggybacking on his success, the song has taken on a life of his own. I have no personal connection to Gothic rock directly, yet I am aware of the culture it expanded upon. The infatuation with death and morose subject matter has clearly remained relevant. This is a once in a generation song in that everyone wishes they could write a song as lovingly reflective of their subject while also feeling like it exists within their ethos.

Bauhaus did so with excellent songcraft that I hope is reflective in the rest of their work. I’m not entirely sure if this was their mentality when writing the song, but given how much has spawned from early horror, I want to believe that they were shooting for Universal Horror atmosphere and succeeding. Not only that, but their singles cover recalled the D.W. Griffith film The Sorrows of Satan (1926). They did their homework. 

This is to say that if anyone invented Gothic rock (or as some YouTube commenters suggested: vampire punk) it was the composers of the 1920s and 30s. They created the sound that defined generations of horror. Still, to have it condensed into a rock genre like how Bauhaus did is admirable, worthy of celebrating every year around Lugosi’s birthday. After all, he’s born amid the Halloween season. He deserves to be treated like royalty.

My parting thoughts on Bauhaus is the reason I chose this song because of an article I read in 2005. As I had every year in The Los Angeles Times, I read their recap of Coachella. In this case, they had reunited for one of their rare performances. During this song, Murphy hung upside down while singing the lyrics. Considering that he wasn’t a young man anymore, it only made this act all the more impressive, able to hold his limberness for a near 10 minutes as he sang the lyrics. It’s incredible how he became like a bat on the stage, and it’s something that’s always stuck with me. 

There was another year where The L.A. Times covered Coachella and a friend of mine ended up being interviewed in the story. His name was on the front page of The Entertainment Section, and it was really cool. 

Ed Wood (left) with Alex Gordon and Bela Lugosi

But that’s what’s fun about being a horror icon. Your tributes don’t ever have to be boring. They can be as wild and eccentric as you’d expect. It’s like when Christopher Lee died. As much as we paid tribute to him, it was a chance to look at his many amazing accomplishments. For Lugosi, he created an archetype that continues to be built upon. While I personally think there are aspects of Dracula that I don’t love, it’s definitely crucial to the art that I love. It isn’t just that Bauhaus wouldn’t exist. It’s the sense that whole generations of artists wouldn’t feel inspired to create their own kooky art. For as dumb as it sounds, we wouldn’t have Edward D. Wood Jr. giving him a different type of longevity. He meant so much over the decades, and it was mostly because he endured.

Is Bela Lugosi dead? If you look at media as being able to gain immortality, it’s likely that he will outlive us all.