The Cramps Live

I was talking to a record indus­try worker calling from Los Angeles on the day of the Cramps show. When I mentioned the Cramps’ appearance to her she said, “You sound like you live in Utah.” I guess in Los Angeles the Cramps aren’t fashionable. I doubt that the record industry worker in question has ever seen the Cramps live. Listening to the records is a pleasing experience, but when the band takes the stage the experience is something else alto­gether. Poison Ivy was resplendent in a gold sparkling body suit. Some in the audience were guessing her age, but I’m not about to look it up. The woman is a beauty no matter how old she is. Stiletto heels and a large, red Gretsch hollow-body rounded out her outfit. Lux Interior wore a leopard print bodysuit tucked into high heeled black boots. Slim Chance on bass wore black vinyl slacks and his boots had the highest and sharpest heels. I didn’t get a good look at the drummer, Harry Drumdini. 

Ah, but I precede myself. The Demolition Doll Rods were the first band on the stage. Their music is minimalist psychobilly. The gui­tarist/bassist had large breasts which were barely covered. She wore a G­ string. The drum kit consisted of two floor toms and the drummer was dressed the same as the guitarist/bassist. The only male in the group covered his nipples and wore a thong to hide his genitals. He was a wasted, anorexic looking indi­vidual. The females probably exer­cise him nearly to death as their sex slave at the same time they deprive him of food. As I said the music was minimalist psychobilly and many in the audience didn’t approve. I found the Demolition Doll Rods pleasing in appearance and performance. Guitar Wolf appeared as Japanese motorcy­cle hoods. The fuzz and distortion present on the records was not pro­vided in the live setting, but never­theless their brand of pure garage rock was an exciting relief from the typical “alternative” so commonly viewed on local stages.

Back to the Cramps. I found the moshing to psychobilly somewhat unusual, but maybe the Los Angeles record industry worker was correct: in Salt Lake City, any live music requires a “mosh pit.” The band played a few selections from their new album, although I didn’t catch my favorites, “Monkey With Your Tail” or “Sheena’s In A Goth Gang.” Interior’s vocals were a little muddy but that is common to the venue; all vocals are muddy in DV8. One high­light was “Garbageman.” Another was “TV Set,” and the rendition of the Count Five‘s “Psychotic Reaction” was splendid. The grand finale was beyond description. In past appearances Interior has been more energetic while Ivy has been less active. She moved more than usual and he was more tranquil until the encore cover of the Trashmen‘s  “Surfin’ Bird.” One of Interior’s more famous stage antics is microphone fellatio. This he did standing, crawling and lying on his back. Grunts, groans and all manner of obscene noises emerged from the sound system as Interior satisfied the microphone. He of course broke the mic stand in half and he climbed a speaker stack and humped it until he ejaculated spit from his mouth.

Many in attendance were Cramps concert veterans. The audi­ence was a who’s who of the old guard of Salt Lake City’s under­ground. Some people, probably attending their first Cramp’s show, misbehaved. Once again, the Los Angeles record industry worker came to mind because misbehavior at concerts is a common Salt Lake City trait. Numerous plastic cups were thrown from the upper balcony onto the stage. Someone sprayed a full bottle of beer on the lower audi­ence and on the Cramps. The most frightening act of misbehavior came as the Cramps completed the set and left the stage. Someone threw a full drink, complete with ice, which nar­rowly missed Poison Ivy. If I were the Cramps I would have said fuck Salt Lake City and not come back for an encore. Give the band their due, they came back and let it all hang out for the encore. The audience left satisfied and satiated, exactly the way they should leave after any magnificent musical performance. —Elder Johnson

Read more from the archives of November 1997:
Dandy Warhols
Written In Blood: November 1997

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