The Cramps - Bad Music For Bad People

I know I’m supposed to be a champion of catalog titles, real albums that reflect the artist’s state of mind that year or their creative output for a specific period. As Bruce McCulloch so eloquently put it, “Greatest Hits albums are for housewives and little girls.” They’re also fodder for record companies who typically use them as profitable linings and contract fillers, often packaging them over and over again just to make sure they get every dime of an artist’s worth.
On some occasions, the greatest hits compilation is fine. I could, for example, totally advise you that the only Abba album you need is Gold and only the most insane of completists or devoted of Abba fan need look further.
On other occasions, the greatest hits album is so full of great material that it’s hard to dispute it, even when there are other catalog albums that are equal in importance. These types of compilations should be considered too for their ability to prompt the listener to seek out the artist’s proper catalog titles.
Bad Music For Bad People is a great example of this. It’s features The Cramps’ best songs and is so start-to-finish awesome that you’ll be looking for Songs The Lord Taught Us and other Cramps albums immediately after listening to it.
Yes, Lux Interior’s passing had me thinking about this, because for me, there is no better place to gain insight on that man’s brilliance than with this flawless compilation.
It is the Webster dictionary of “shockabilly” and the most worthy of Cramps’ compendiums in existence.
It was the mid-to-late 80’s, and I found myself in Iowa City with a friend and a few acquaintances, one of whom was French and worked at the University of Iowa at some capacity. I met him a few times prior and we had a wonderful discussion of the importance of the Eurythmics’ 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother) album. We both agreed it was an overlooked album and the duo received unfair criticism for it.
We started at his rental house for a few drinks and he mentioned a party in his neighborhood. It was late, it was within walking distance, and it seemed like a good thing to do. I had no idea where I was or who the people were, but they seemed friendly enough.
It was more than I could say for the music that they were playing.
There was about two or three dozen people there and they showed us to the freshly tapped keg. After a fill of beer, I made my way to the living room, sat down, and was struck by the strangeness of the music playing from the stereo.
“Who’s this?” I asked a man rolling a joint.
“The Cramps” he replied.
“Bad Music For Bad People” added another guy, eagerly waiting for his friend’s handiwork to be done.
By the time it got to “She Said” the two were sharing the joint with everyone within proximity, whooping it up along with Lux.
They turned the record over and began another round on side two.
Halfway through it, the doors opened and a bunch of hippies came in. The bars had closed, and a few dozen more people came in. The hippies took of that Cramps record and put on a Byrds record. They had more weed, so I didn’t protest much, but I made a note of that record that struck my nerve before.
Start with Bad and you'll be looking for the good in the rest of The Cramps' catalog.

R.I.P. Lux Interior

Erick Purkhiser turned 60 last year along with my Mother. 1948 was the only thing that they shared in common, as my Mother grew up but Erick, better known as Lux Interior to you and me, failed to advance past the age of 16.
He liked comic books, horror movies, old Rockabilly records, scantily clad women and drugs. With hobbies like these and little incentive to blend in to the mainstream world, it is amazing that he survived. The majority of social rejects don’t make it too far. But Erick found his way to the stage, on the screen, and on television sets around the world, speaking directly to like-minded freaks with like-minded interests.
He picked up one of them hitchhiking. A chance meeting that turned into a lifelong love affair. Her given name was Kristy Wallace, but Erick helped her become Poison Ivy around the same time that he decided on his more appropriate name.
They liked Alice Cooper and the New York Dolls, but didn’t put any thought behind trying to play music themselves until they saw The Ramones. They figured that if four ugly looking dudes who could barely play their instruments could get a band together that captured the essence of those early rock ‘n roll records then, be-bop-a-lula, so could they.
Erick…um, Lux….would be Elvis, only uglier.
Kristy…uh, Poison…would be Scotty Moore, only prettier.
And the whole fucking thing would have to be mixed in with songs straight out of those movies they saw on the local Creature Feature horror show.
They called is rock music, but those that needed to put a new spin on such an old word called it “Psychobilly.”
Over the next thirty years the band this two formed barely moved an inch creatively. They didn’t need to, of course, because The Cramps would sound silly if they changed at all. It may have prevented them from garnishing the success that they most certainly deserved, but then again, what would have Ed Wood turned into had Plan 9 been a box office smash?
He wouldn’t have been Ed Wood, that’s for sure.
For anyone that saw the movie Urgh! A Music War, the first thing mentioned was Lux’s performance. Ms. Ivy played a primitive guitar pattern and drummer Knick Knocks laid down a repetitive shuffle. Lux commanded the stage and urged everyone to “tear this damn place up!” When the crowd didn’t oblige his wishes, Lux threw himself on the floor, hit himself with the microphone and eventually placed the entire head of it down his throat, screaming while it was lodged deep inside his gullet.
It was amazing.
It was memorable.
And now, that memory…along with any others that you may have been fortunate enough to see…is all we will have of Lux.