The Cramps were my sin-soaked saviors throughout high school, the band that perfectly blended my burgeoning obsessions of Rock 'n' Roll and all things horror movies, and never failed to completely push my disturbed parents to the brink of their sanity. I still have vivid, fond memories of listening to "Can Your Pussy Do The Dog?" on KROQ in the car as a teenager with my Mom and having her ask me, incredulously, "What is he singing? Can your pussy do the WHAT?! Pussy is a derogatory term for the female vagina!!" (I guess as opposed to, you know, the male vagina). Beautiful, and really, isn't that what rock music is there for? It concerns me that the music kids listen to now doesn't ruffle their parents' feathers in the slightest. That's just wrong.
The Cramps were my official soundtrack (along with the Jesus and Mary Chain and the Smiths, when I was feeling more mororse than noisy) to endless teenage ennui, the very sound of growing up in the 80's in the shadow of Disneyland, drinking lots of Mountain Dew and taking pictures of pointless, kitchsy suburban debris. They sounded like escape, like a world filled with endless monster movies, sweaty rock concerts and forbidden gold lame capri pants, and they certainly complimented my already-rabid fixation with John Waters and Divine perfectly. I once owned no fewer than seven different Cramps t-shirts at one time, and would sport one after another to school for a solid week-long block of oozing skulls, monster fonts and 100% cotton ghoulishness. The last time I saw them live was Halloween 2003, when they opened for Queens of the Stone Age at the Greek Theatre in L.A. during a truly insane rainstorm. This being an outdoor venue, Larry, my then-boyfriend/now-husband and I braved the elements and witnessed Lux, Ivy and the band rip through a wild opening set while lashed by the Devil's downpour as Mr. Interior writhed on a giant zebra-skin rug, ranted, raved and basically ran circles around acts a fraction of his age. Were were freezing, soaked and had only a shitty umbrella for shelter, but hell, it didn't matter at all because the allmighty Cramps were tearing it up like lunatics. The Cramps were truly like no other band on Earth, and no one will ever come close to creating the majestically filthy noise and chaos they did. Lux, you will be sorely missed....
"Tear It Up" from Urgh! A Music War (1983):
Live at the Peppermint Lounge, plus interview footage, 1984:
Muleskinner Blues (Live):
"Human Fly" (from the Urgh! peformance):
"Creature From The Black Leather Lagoon" promo video (1990):
and, finally, my two very favorite Cramps tunes, "Garbageman":
...and "TV Set":
"I wanna leave a happy memory when I go
I wanna leave something to let the whole world know
That the rock 'n' roll daddy has done past on
But his bones keep rockin' long after I'm gone"
-Ronnie Dawson
3 comments:
I have a similar parental Cramp experience. I had "New Kind of Kick" on a mix-tape I was playing in my car while driving my parents somewhere. I was 17 and had to pretend I didn't know that Dick wasn't just a guy's name.
Majestically filthy noise and chaos...well said! I did a feminist performance art piece to "Can your Pussy Do the Dog?" and still love that song. Human Fly is transcendent.
I'm 17 and my dad banned me from playing the Cramps in the house. I'm still insanely in love with Lux though. And his wife. And his other partners-in-crime. But, above all, Lux. When I tried to convince dad that they 'weren't all that bad', and named an example, I even found out some expressions I didn't know from him. Of course, they were outrageous and so funny that I couldn't help smirking in spite of the situation.
So you could say, that with my penchant for acts like the Cramps and glam-era Bowie [my mom wasn't at all impressed with what went on in "Time"'s guitar break], I do ruffle the parents' feathers a little...
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