SIOUXSIE SIOUX has heard so much about last year's punk rock resurgence in America that her reaction to it is hardly surprising, "I've been asked about Green Day, and [every time], I just burst out laughing - uncontrollably across the Atlantic," says the singer, calling after a late-night group rehearsal in London. "I think a lot of amusing things are quite disgusting. Depends on what amuses you, I suppose. It's kind of 'paint-by-numbers' punk, isn't it? I don't like anything considered that thought out." And she should know. Predictable has never appeared in Siouxsie & The Banshees' dictionary. An early incarnation of the band started auspiciously at London's 100 Club in 1976, where they recited a 20-minute version of the Lord's Prayer. Few could have guessed that this contingent (which initially included drummer Sid Vicious and future Adam & The Ants guitarist Marco Pirroni), would still be flourishing two decades later. They are the only survivors of the British avant punk scene.
Siouxsie's longevity stems from the fact that she has remained oblivious to all the hype and labels pinned on the band. "These terminologies ... When we first started, we were called Punk or Goth or New Wave. After [hearing] all that, I went blah."
A key part of the Banshees' allure is derived from the magnetic presence of Siouxsie herself. She strikes a dark and seductive figure, with a jittery wail that teeters on the edge of insanity and beauty in the same breath. The group's wide-ranging potpourri of unusual material has rarely covered the same point twice. Witness the Orient-tinged "Hong Kong Garden," childlike simplicity of "Dear Prudence," the majestic grandeur of "Dazzle" and giddy herky-jerky of "Peek-A-Boo." All told, Siouxsie and the Banshees combine the spooky and arcane like a trip through Disneyland's Pirates of the Caribbean.
"I really like mixing traditional and orthodox sounds and marrying them to something from another country or another world," she explains. "I find it really interesting that you [can] have a guitar with an accordion ... We're odd in that way. We tend to take forms of music and re-interpret them."
On The Rapture, the Banshees, who still consist of founding bassist Steve Severin and drummer Budgie, along with guitarist Jon Klein and keyboardist/cellist Martin McCarrick - have gone au naturel so to speak, by removing many of the technological layers that comprised 1991's Stephen Hague-produced Superstition. The subsequent hit single "Kiss Them For Me" and a high-profile appearance on the Lollapalooza tour, as well as a
Contribution to the "Batman Returns" soundtrack made it one of the most fruitful years ever for the band. Still, Siouxsie was not all that happy with Hague's results. "He's hooked up to a computer like it's his kidney dialysis machine," she says. "We've exploded the bubble that we worked in before. You know it was a new experience for us. We were kind of curious to see what would happen. That's the main thing that kept it going.
"I'm not altogether elated by the end result. Quite a bit of the material I liked, but in hindsight ... doing this album was a reaction to that."
A house that Siouxsie and Budgie share in the South of France turned into the place where everyone would eventually compose and record the music. This situation was quite askance to what they were used to. "We kind of cut ourselves off from the rest of modern civilization and wrote the songs there," she explains. Unexpectedly, Siouxsie discovered this method had its share of odd effects. "They all got their period the same day as me," she deadpans. "Stomach aches at the same time similar dreams. You end up reading the same book without realizing it." Fiction in the form of a Jack London novel provided the inspiration for "Stargazer," while an old TV documentary about the hard life of two female twins was the impetus for "The Double Life.”
"Once the songs started, I really wanted for them to happen quickly, so they're much bolder strokes ... Basically, what you're hearing is a much more uncluttered soundscape. We haven't deliberated or tried to synthesize the sound too much. We actually played with things. You know, feeding back on each other. It was a much more symbiotic, organic sound."
But halfway through recording, Siouxsie realized something was still missing.
 "We thought we'd taken self-production as far as it could go," she explains. "We wanted to find someone who would be an umpire for us. By a series of coincidences, we ended up working with the very wonderful John Cale."
Needless to say, since the Velvet Underground was one of the Banshees' early influences and the group covered a Cale song on 1987's Through The Looking Glass, Siouxsie was ecstatic.
"It was exciting and kind of reassuring ... John was very intuitive musically. We kind of communicated through the music, which was a great way of [working). We'd just admired him for so long. The boot was on the other foot. He certainly wasn't in awe of us. You couldn't get away with playing any games or bullshit that we might get with someone who's a bit nervous with us."
Now Siouxsie is itching to get out and weave her magic spell on stage. "I'm chomping at the bit - sitting in my corner, waiting for the bell to go 'ding-ding. "'
Let the Rapture begin.
    This article originally appeared in the February 1995 issue of Mean Street Magazine, A Southern California Free Mag Covering Mostly (but not limited to) the SoCal local music Scene.