Pour One Out For: Lux Interior

“If you can’t dig me, you can’t dig nothin.'”

Lux Interior, the godfather of psychobilly, is dead. From the Guardian:

Some 30 years ago, with the King still warm in his casket, Lux rose like a zombie from the primordial swamp as a twisted, grotesquely libidinous, werewolf Elvis from Hell, and the mask – if it was a mask – never came off. The Cramps went one step further than punk rock: they didn’t merely go back to basics, they stripped rock’n’roll naked and flaunted it in its lethal distilled form: as a relentless sex beast, a psychotic release, a nihilist post-apocalyptic celebration, the ultimate in trash culture.

The last Cramps gig review I read described Lux masturbating on stage and climaxing on the mike to Love Me as the set concluded. A typical show (Boston, 1986) found him clad in leopard-skin briefs drinking wine from an audience member’s shoe and French-kissing a random person in the crowd for a full 10 minutes with the microphone in their mouths.

Lux, whose real name was Erick Lee Purkhiser, died of a pre-existing heart condition at a hospital in California. He was 62 years old.

Well when I die don’t you bury me at all, Just nail my bones up on the wall, Beneath these bones let these words be seen, “This is the bloody gears of a boppin’ machine.” – The Cramps, Rockin’ Bones


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