Origin of the species: Formed 1975 in NYC by LUX INTERIOR and POISON IVY (aka Erick Lee Purkhiser and Kirsty Marlana Wallace), THE CRAMPS duct-taped mangled pieces of Sun Records blues and rockabilly (HOWLIN' WOLF, JERRY LEE LEWIS) to the sixties stun-guitar of LINK WRAY, surf rock, B-movies, gore flicks, fast cars, and a whole bunch of other stuff that would bastardize and stain the genre for years to come. Despite multiple lineup changes (bassists / drummers), these two beautiful people left behind a vast collection of amped-up, get-your-freak-on rock 'n roll records, practically inventing the genre known as psychobilly. The albums were visually stunning, as were the live shows,

fueled by stripped-to-the-waist Lux's braying vocals and Poison Ivy's riffs and fishnets. Sadly, Lux passed on February 4, 2009, succumbing to an existing heart condition, ending an era of spectacular performances and consistent records from one of the greatest rock frontmen of all time. Even so, the band's legacy continues to shine in the music of modern artists from THE HORRORPOPS to HAUNTED GEORGE to THE KOFFIN KATS and countless others.

"Gravest Hits", 1979: The band’s debut disc for IRS is about as raw as can be with it’s reverberated guitars, obnoxious vocals and basic back beating drums. Although “Gravest Hits” contains mostly cover songs, it’s sole original “Human Fly” really sets the tone and places you unswervingly into planet CRAMPS. The tune starts with a lone surf guitar intro. Vocalist Lux Interior’s “Buzzzing” puts you right there and your hooked immediately (unless you are a total square and you should stop reading this now). “I’ve got 96 tears and 96 eyes. I’ve got a garbage brain that’s driving me insane…I don’t scare, cause I’m a reborn maggot using germ warfare” are about the best lyrics ever written by anyone.

The lyrics are maybe as punk as it gets yet the group’s sound is entrenched in rockabilly, surf and not much else. Guitarists Poison Ivy and Brian Gregory manage to pull this sound off in spades without the help of the bass guitar (an instrument not introduced until 1985’s classic “A Date With Elvis” LP). “The Way I Walk” and “Domino” are somewhat dominated by drummer Nick Knox’s tom pouncing as he travels in and out of the backbeat. The absolute trashing of “Surfin’ Bird” starts off with Interior not veering too far off from the original vocal style (ie: grating and abrasive) and as the crescendo commences the guitars get so LINK WRAY loud ‘n noisy that they drown out the drums/vocals almost completely. This all-to-short record ends with our heroes revealing a sensitive side with the ballad “Lonesome Town”. Recorded in Memphis, Tennessee back in 1977 by John Hampton and produced by the one and only Alex Chilton, “Gravest Hits” got The CRAMPS off to a satisfying albeit painful start.

"Songs The Lord Taught Us", 1980: If "Gravest Hits" was the appetizer, this is the main course, enthusiastically served up by Copeland's edgy IRS label. Chilton's production job is hugely questionable: The guitar tones are ratty as hell, and Lux Interior sounds incredibly subdued compared to live and demo versions of this early material, but the songs are so strong and the band so lean and hungry, it's still a landmark record. Sure, they've got two guitarists this time, but neither one seeks to tear things up like Billy Zoom, opting instead to inject infectious melodies here and there like the vibrant lines of "The Mad Daddy" or the twinkling minimalism of "Sunglasses After Dark". The real secret

weapon here is (surprise!) Lux Interior, adding chilling, demented, and often hilariously panicked hee-hee-cups to priceless fare like "TV Set" and "What's Behind the Mask". Disturbing in the most addictive and loveable way, "Songs the Lord Taught Us" is a radiant example of a band taking rock 'n roll to it's most far-fetched and inevitable conclusion. Fans of this record, be sure to track down the unauthorized demo "All Tore Up" and experience the Ohio Demos in their most powerful, hair-raising state.

"Psychedelic Jungle", 1981: Lux and company step out of the garage on the band's second full-length, opting for a sound that's cleaner and, with the addition of guitarist Kid Congo Powers, more fleshed out. Lucky for us, though, that Lux Interior himself is just as psychotic as he ever was. Just listen to the end of "Goo Goo Muck" and you'd swear it sounds like he's being carted away to the nearest padded cell. It's quite fitting, then, that this album has a sort of wild and untamed theme about it, made apparent not just by the album title, but by songs like "Primitive," "The Natives are Restless," "Caveman" and "Jungle Hop." Some of the best songs on the album, though, are the ones that break

away from that theme. "Rockin' Bones" comes straight from the graveyard complete with zombie moans, serving as a tribute to rockers that have since passed on - a sentiment that, sadly, has quite a bit more relevance now. "Don't Eat Stuff off the Sidewalk" is a good ol' fashioned goose bump-inducing freak-out, and "The Crusher" just might make you don a wrestling mask and cape at your next shindig. As a whole, this is a continuation of the band's earlier material, only this time it's accessible to a wider audience, hence why we're able to talk about it today.

"Smell Of Female", 1983: Small, grimy clubs are often the best places to see bands play; There's an intimacy between the band and the show-goers the big venues just can't replicate. From the banging of the gong before opener, "Thee Most Exalted" the band dishes out oodles of high-energy rockabilly for onlookers at New York's Peppermint Lounge. Lux Interior swings out over the top of a loud, stomping drum, demonstrating vocal gymnastics during "You Got Good Taste" while Poison Ivy's fierce, raw guitar licks squeal and wail to no end. The band's fixation with horror movies and surf music are celebrated in the upbeat "I Ain't Nuthin But A Gorehound", and the daring use

of harmonica in "Psychotic Reaction" transfixes the crowd instead of lulling them to sleep. Interaction and stage banter has rarely been captured as well on a CRAMPS disc as the version of "She Said" included here: The song itself is spluttering spoken narrative overtop of speeding background guitars. Zombie movie fans and trivia buffs should note that the CD version of this album contains a bonus track of "Surfin Dead" which originally appeared on the "Return of the Living Dead" soundtrack. For a vivid representation of a demented early CRAMPS live experience, "Smell of Female" is definitely a worthwhile purchase.

"Bad Music For Bad People", 1984: For the timid newcomers, compilations can serve as a great introduction to a band and "Bad Music for Bad People" is no exception, gathering early CRAMPS material from previously released albums and B-sides. The recording quality of the songs vary, and some like "Love Me" sound under produced compared to other inclusions. Lux's ranting evokes more danger than a Kool-aid carrying Jim Jones as the band rabidly attacks the cover songs. The perfection of the screeching guitar, rockabilly b-movie soundtrack vibe in "Human Fly" is worth the price of a used CD by itself. Priceless demented CRAMPS-style education abounds, as the band instructs listeners how to get

aboard "The Drug Train", and showcases their own distinct murderous tendencies during the classic "TV Set". Purists would argue that this isn't an album, but it's hard to believe this band would balk at the thought of ever being considered pure. "Bad Music for Bad People" is a dirty collection of mind-soiled songs and at a minimum, there's no denying that the album cover makes for a great poster.

"A Date With Elvis", 1986: Six years on from the first album, the first things that strikes you about third studio release "A Date With Elvis" is that by now everything sounds so much fuller. More professional, a little more polished and certainly more assured. Clearly by this time the budget would have been a little bigger, a few live albums, two of which actually charted in the UK would have helped swell the coffers I guess, but the experience of years on the road can surely also be attributed to the improvement in aural quality. That said, there's no denying that somehow a fair degree of the rawness and unpredictability that still makes "Songs The Lord Taught Us" endearing has

disappeared by this point. The basic rockabilly rhythms that nod back to the EDDIE COCHRAN's, GENE VINCENT's et al (indeed the album is dedicated to fallen 50s rocker RICKY NELSON) remain of course but the often unique, occasionally contorted vocals of LUX INTERIOR are reigned in as additionally the lyrical inspiration seems to have largely moved southbound. Instead of the amusing mock horror that peppered "Songs..." this work is marked by the "The Hot Pearl Snatch", notable actually for its manic guitar freak-out, the innuendo heavy "Can Your Pussy Do The Dog" and the frenetic PRESLEY styled vocal of "(Hot Pool Of) Womanneed". With the possible exception of the dreamy pastiche "Kizmiaz" it's still uniquely identifiable as THE CRAMPS but thanks to the largely one dimensional, dominant subject matter it's comes over as not quite as clever as past works and certainly not quite as satisfying.

"Stay Sick!", 1990: "Stay Sick" is another morbid gateway from the raw sound of the early days to the professional band they developed into, and manages to show the strengths of both sides. Sonically, "Stay Sick" is empowered by the addition of a bassist and Ivy's more blitzed-out solos. The funereal soundscape and the smoky haze reminisces the spirits of the possessed black guitarists of the 30's risen up from the delta and invading their past haunts in macabre forms. Lux is in top shape as a vocalist, dominating the album with a strong demonic presence worthy of DANZIG, with sensibility and black humor but never giving a too easy time, never giving in to "merely show biz"

but balancing on the ledge of the truly insane and dangerous. This one has quite a bit of songs that show what skill the CRAMPS had in abstract simplicity, for example "Saddle Up A Buzz Buzz" which is basically EDDIE COCHRAN with a relaxed, full, warm vocal take but the guitar and bass take time to alternate desolate surf guitar tremolo to break up simple structure while the eerie quality of the melody takes you back to the angst and loneliness that fuels teenage lust, horror and rock'n'roll. Just to prove that the old geezers back in the 50's were right in prophesying that JERRY LEE LEWIS is devil's music and will result in sociopathy, Lux, Ivy and the rest continue to tear up the most demented moods possible from simple blues riffs and bends. "Stay Sick" is one of those phenomena where trash can (and will) become deeply moving.

"Look Mom, No Head!", 1991: This album has too many 4+ minutes extended rockabilly rituals that would work better cut in half, just like the murder victims and while the basics of production, attitude and songwriting are all right, there's some excitement and freshness lacking from this album. It's a bit like CRAMPS has become a corporate job at this point, as on some of the tracks one gets the impression it's a normal rock group imitating CRAMPS. Lux sounds somewhat bored and non-threatening, while the music is too polished in both playing and production. Even while teeming with catchy riffs and brutally distorted bass, "Look Mom, No Head" fails to hold up to most of it's

predecessors as things like "Bend Over, I'll Drive" and "Eyeball In My Martini" sound quite lame and ironic compared to the existential terror that is "TV Set" or "Garbage Man". The psychotic cackles and other sound effects from Lux's lung ring somehow forced. But on the other hand there's "Dames, Booze, Chains And Boots" and "Miniskirt Blues" with Iggy Pop that have a marvelous anthem-esque quality, so there are a few reasons to check out this album too, it's just not up there with their best.

"Flamejob", 1994: At this point we're nearly 20 years into the career of THE CRAMPS, yet they absolutely refuse to show their age. If anything, they're making it a point to show just how full of vigor and nastiness they can be. "Mean Machine" shows Lux's chest-pumping aggressive side, while Ivy drenches her guitar with overdrive. Moving through the album, "Ultra Twist" and "Inside Out and Upside Down (with You)" celebrate unabashed sexuality, while "Let's Get Fucked Up" and "Sado County Auto Show" reestablish that sort of keep-them-on-the-edge-of-their-seat weirdness that only THE CRAMPS can deliver. What's probably most memorable about this album, though, is the

handful of sincere and (dare we say?) tender moments like "Trapped Love," "How Come You Do Me?" and "Strange Love" that show off Lux's sensitive side. Perhaps these tracks offer some insight into the affection shared between Lux and Ivy? Also worth mentioning is the perhaps inevitable cover of "Route 66," which is finally given the dynamics needed to make the song both interesting and relevant again. Ironically, this would be the last CRAMPS studio album on a major label, but at least the band was able to prove its mettle one last time on a grand scale.

"Big Beat From Badsville", 1997: Armed with a truly horrid title, the "Flamejob" lineup (Ivy / Lux / Drumdini / Slim Chance) blazes through a semi-innocuous set of kitschy tunes. We're a long way from the early records at this point, and listening to BBfB, it's hard to shake the notion that the titans of trailer trash haven't begun to cover themselves just a tad. The production is razor-sharp compared to some of the hissy, tetanus-shot tones of the early 80s; the band is coming dangerously close to sounding "respectable". Tracks like "Sheena's In A Goth Gang" and "Devil Behind That Bush" are amusing, but cutesy and cartoony compared with the classics. The "oohs" and "ahs" in

"Monkey With Your Tail" are entertaining and do seem to stretch the confines of the genre, largely thanks to one Lux Interior. Frankly, his vocal performances are the only thing keeping the band above water at this point, evidenced in the sexy "Like A Bad Girl Should" and the dominatrix devotion of "Queen of Pain", a mandatory neo-CRAMPS classic for your IPod playlist. Effective, but safe.

"Fiends of Dope Island", 2003: Enveloped in spectacularly colorful packaging, "Fiends" marks a return to the gritty, dark sounds originally conceived by the band. Gone are the bouncy, almost MTV-ish rockabilly rave-ups that dominated the "Big Beat From Badsville" record, in lieu of swarthy graveyard numbers like the dark, Fogerty-esque "Color Me Black". Lux's warm, seductive voice is particularly alluring during "Taboo", which explores NICK CAVE territory. The songs aren't all particularly memorable, but Ivy's high-powered LINK WRAY-isms provide burly solo action in "Mojo Man From Mars" and the aptly titled "She's Got Balls". Definitely not the second coming of the Ohio Demos, but for the final

CRAMPS studio album, fans could do much worse than a quick stop at Dope Island.

"How To Make A Monster", 2004: For dyed-in-the wool CRAMPS fans that still have dreams of Lux or Ivy popping out of a cake at their next birthday, the raiding-the-vaults Cramp-gasm of "How To Make A Monster" will seem irresistible. For the passive fan, this lumps 'n all collection could just kill your interest in the band. Lucky for us, the most painful tracks reside at the beginning of Disc 1, so getting past the pathetic pseudo-TROGGS instrumental "Lux's Blues" and the boombox-quality production '76 versions of "Sunglasses After Dark" and "TV Set" (Lux's vocals are so weak, it sounds like he's trying not to wake his parents in the next room) are over with quickly. By "Can't Hardly Stand

It", the Lux we know and love is nearly in full bloom, and the inclusion of the Nuggets-y THIRD BARDO cover "Five Years Ahead Of My Time" is a cool listen. The live performances on Disc 2 range from poor to decent, high points ranging from a scathing early CBGB version of "Teenage Werewolf", complete with Budokan-style squeals from the females, and a Max's Kansas City recording of "Jungle Hop" augmented by Herr Interior ranting and squealing like a stuck pig with bottles breaking in the background. Of course there are plenty of cringes, like the tattoo-needle-in-the-ear guitar solo in the Max's "TV Set", but anyone expecting a smooth, mistake-free live album wouldn't be wasting time with early CRAMPS material, would they? For true believers only.

Final thoughts: In the modern era, where actual singing is becoming a rare talent, and extreme rock 'n roll stars aspire look like the guy that fills up your car with unleaded, the passing of a truly exciting frontman like Lux Interior is particularly tragic. Despite the lineup and production changes, his vocal performance always seemed to steal the show, and the flair for campy, visually stunning theatrics that he shared with Ivy made THE CRAMPS even more irresistible both onstage and on vinyl. Hopefully this little writeup has you a little curious about some of these records, so seek 'em out. And remember, don't eat stuff off the sidewalk. - Peacedogman Staff

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