R.I.P Lux Interior!

In the early morning hours of Wednesday February 4, 2009, the world of rock and roll lost one of its most original, dynamic, freakish and underrated frontmen of all time - Lux Interiror (born Erick Lee Purkhiser) of the pioneering garage/punk band the Cramps.

I was lucky enough to see the Cramps perform at Motherf*cker (the now defunct NYC dance party) during late 2006. Seasoned veterans by then, I cannot erase the images of Interior as he threw himself about the stage like a deranged ragdoll with reckless abandon or performing fellatio on his mic. (in between songs he would chug red wine, naturally).

The Cramps was the bastard love child of Interior and guitarist Poison Ivy (born Kristy Wallace, later his wife). They eventually left California and traveled east in the mid 1970s with their band to become part of the nascent punk scene that revolved around venues such as Max’s Kansas City and CBGBs in lower Manhattan.

While the bands that inhabited the NYC milieu were initially varied – both visually and sonically (think leather-clad Ramones, spastic Talking Heads or the glamorously trashy Blondie), the Cramps truly stuck out, as they were simultaneously campy and menacing. Their look and sound was a melting pot of references and aesthetics, from 1950’s B-horror movies and sadomasochism to rockabilly and double entendres (“Can You’re Your Pussy Do the Dog?” Ahem.)

Like many bands associated with punk rock, the Cramps never achieved commercial success. However, songs like “Human Fly," “I Was A Teenage Werewolf” and “Goo Goo Muck” are ingrained on a generation of listeners. Even without a gold record under their garter belt, many credit the genre of “pyschobilly” or “horror rock” to the band.

Recommended viewing, the grainy clips on YouTube of the band in the late '70s performing a show for patients at the Napa State Mental. A few songs in, you almost can’t tell the difference between the band and the incarcerated. Take that, Live Aid.

One reviewer put it best, describing Interior's voice as "the psychosexual werewolf/ Elvis hybrid from hell." Somewhere out there, the afterlife just got a little kinkier.

– Daniel Alonso