The first mental images to come to the brain of the average Joe or Jane when mentioning Omaha, Nebraska, would likely be cornfields as far as the eye can see, Johnny Carson, steaks, a world zoo, Mutual of Omaha Insurance or tortured songsmith Conor Oberst. Now, if you happen upon a fan of the whacked out sub-genre of rock that I like to call surf Billy garage rock, Omaha conjures one prominent spector: the band that is Brimstone Howl.

With one of the many severe thunderstorms to shit on Missouri in the last few weeks raging outside my office window, I felt it was the opportune time to stay up into the wee hours of the morning, risk electrocution at my computer and review Brimstone Howl’s latest We Came In Peace. Actually, the conditions are perfect for a critique of this record; the weather is violent and unrelenting, reminiscent of those old Hammer Studios horror flicks from the 1950s and 1960s, add to that the creepy Jim Diamond of Detroit garage gods The Dirt Bombs production (Peace sounds a bit like it was recorded at the bottom of a metal trash can in a well at the very back of an immense cavern) and Peace, though ironically named, could easily be its soundtrack.

There are many moments of eerie greatness to be found here. The songwriting, delivery, setup and all around raw slickness of the songs are not unlike the gems on the classic Nuggets compilation. Every track has flashes of this, all made nearly perfect by the manically fantastic lead guitar savagery of Nick Waggoner. His wicked slide and effects drenched flamethrower is especially prominent on the track “Child Of Perdition”, a roadhouse jam that bows to Chuck Berry as much as it does X’s Billy Zoom. In fact, it could quite possibly be some of the best playing in rock and “They Call Me Hopeless Destroyer” is open nerve blues like Jack White used to play before he spread himself thin jamming in 47 different bands. Complimenting the guitar chops is vocalist/ guitarist John Ziegler. What stands out most for me about Zeigler on this record is not his playing, though it is topnotch, is his vocals. He is a strange alien creature mix of the late Lux Interior, John Doe and the swagger of a juvenile delinquent from The Blackboard Jungle if said delinquent would have had access to LSD and William S. Burroughs novels.

Perhaps the best thing about Peace is that, with it, Brimstone Howl are at the very least attempting to bring rock back to its blues, rebellious and bare boots, raw roots. Just like The Ramones did in the 1970’s, Howl borrowing from 1960’s groups like The Shirelles, The Shangri-Las and The Ronettes to hone a sound that is as much a tribute as it is original. Goddamn, there’s even a song on the disc named “Shangri La”. If that isn’t a apparent case of fandom I don’t know what is.

The only crystal clear ape of any bands on this disc is the track “Easy to Dream”. If they could have gotten Sweet Lou Reed to do (I won’t say sing) the lines, it could have been sold as a companion piece to “Venus In Furs” and The Doors exorcism that is “The World Will Never Know.” But is that a crime? Borrowing from your heroes? Burying you enemies in flattery? Brimstone Howl are one of the best of the new crop of garage punks that loot and pillage music history like so many guitar wielding Vikings. It’s clear that they walk in the footsteps of their forefathers but luckily they don’t seem content to merely be a cover band like some others that shall remain nameless here.

The drumming of Calvin Retzlaff is pounding, stick splintering playing at it’s finest. He is Dick Dale with a drum set instead of a Strat. The first sound the listener hears on Peace is the steady, lightning fast, flaw free time and it only gets more aggressive with every progressive track thereafter. The bass of Chauncey Patton is as dense as a trucker’s midnight cup of coffee. In short, the band is in top form, showing an improved confidence since 2007 Guts of Steel. They mix the different elements within the band expertly. There’s slower tracks (“Easy To Dream”), speedy blues numbers (“Catamite Blues”, “They Call Me Hopeless Destroyer”) and the just plan weird random tune (“The World Will Never Know”).

Brimstone Howl are like the strange friend that lives in his mom’s basement and talks at length about UFOs, The Twilight Zone, going to Buenos Aires and government conspiracies. As you sit there listening you think to yourself, “this cat is totally fucked in the head. I should split.” But you don’t. You sit there, you listen, you get sucked in because, after awhile, it starts making sense. That’s what it’s like listening to We Came in Peace. This Omaha band is the crop circles, Bigfoot, ghosts and alien abductions of rock; a far out phenomenon that gathers steam and a flock of new believers the more their name is whispered. Brimstone Howl… Brimstone Howl…… Brimstone Howl……..

“I remember Lux as glowing,” writes Kid Congo Powers, recalling the late front man of the The Cramps on his blog yesterday. “The rockabilly howler, the psychedelic seer, the latex and high heels pervert, the late night horror host, the most exhalted potentate of love, the king of rock and roll. Lux was all these things and so much more.”

Kid wrote he was honored to have known the amazing and magical Lux Interior, who influenced the guitarist greatly. “It didn’t take more than witnessing one song of The Cramps live to realize Lux burned with an uncontainable wildfire within. He possessed the uncanny talent for zeroing in on the absolute essence and beauty of the wild and weird, be it in records, films, books, photography or art from all eras past, especially those looking way into the future.”

Kid also fondly recalls one of the last times he had seen Lux, in 2006 at one of their last shows in New York City. “It had been years since I had met up with the band and backstage Lux kept hugging and kissing me. I was so happy to see them again.”

“During the always chaotic rendition of “Surfin Bird” Lux climbed on the stacked drum monitors, peeking out of a slit in the long black velvet curtains so that all you saw was his bleached blond head glowing beautiful and grotesque, I saw the always cool Poison Ivy look up and start laughing with appreciation and love. At that moment I was incredibly touched and so thankful for The Cramps.”

A few months after the Cramps show, Lux had come to see Kid in his new band, The Pink Monkey Birds. It was the last time Kid would see Lux in person. “Lux was a bit tipsy and very kissy again and full of love. My sister Barbara was selling our merch and Lux ran behind the table to greet her after not seeing her for 25 years. What a sweetheart. He commented to me that some of my stage patter could have come from his mouth.”

Kid ended the endearing post — which you can read in it’s entirety here — by simply stating, “We miss him already.”

Kid is just one of the many mourning the death of the revered front man. You can read friend and former label rep, Kevin Patrick’s, memoriam here

Lux Interior as remembered by his friend Kevin Patrick

It took a bit of coaxing to get me to my first Cramps show. They played a club in my college town of Rochester, NY, and I wasn’t particularly into their first album, which they were touring on at the time. The argument putting me over the edge was based on logic: There wasn’t really anything else to do that night, a typical problem. Coincidentally, we had mutual friends in Eric and Mel Mache from NY. Eric recommended we go along, see them and say hello. So why not? Thank you Eric. It changed my life. I was never the same.

Why did any band other than The Ramones even bothering to get out of bed in the morning to compete? The truly informed didn’t. The Cramps created a sound and a theater that scared off all the competition. It would indeed be silly to imply any part was bigger than the sum, but these parts were bigger than anyone else’s and hence the sum was historical, seminal, other worldly, untouchable. Like Ivy, Lux was a one off. Many have and are professing him to be the greatest front man ever — I agree. His perfect combination of spontaneity, teetering on the edge but never losing control has gone unmatched. Did you ever see Lux do or say the same thing twice? No. Did you struggle to watch his every move yet still need to watch Ivy, Kid, Bryan, Candy or Slim? Oh yeah. Did you relive every show in your mind for days and even years after? Yes. And we all still will. If you never saw The Cramps you will forever live in B.C. and I am sorry for you.

I was lucky enough to begin a long personal journey with them after that first show. It floored us all, and we were only too happy to say hello and invite them back to our apartments (another friend lived on the same floor) for some food and record playing. The first of endless and unique Cramps experiences happened that very night. There was a strange flapping noise in our bedroom where Corinne was trying to sleep, having an early wake up call the next day. She got up, came out to the living room where the band a few friends were gathered, saying something was making a strange flapping noise in the bedroom. Lux and I went in to check it out. It was a bat — how did a bat get there? To this day we have no idea. At the time, The Cramps persona was very graveyard/skull and crossbones/old Hollywood’s dark side. The bat seemed strangely relevant as that aura was rumored to follow them around. Lux segued into an involuntary mode, capturing it in a glass casserole dish. We all had a look, then he set it free out the kitchen window. This actually tells you everything you need to know about him. He was instinctive, logical, fearless, strategic, courteous, kind and gentle all at once, truly a person beyond the beyond. We had ordered 2 pizzas, they never came, it was a quiet city in the late 70s, still is. Nothing was open, so The Cramps retreated to their hotel hungry, but content and pleasant.

They came back through town again a year or so later, summer ‘81, this time to promote Psychedelic Jungle. Kid Congo was now in the band, it was one of their classic lineups. Duane Sherwood, a friend like myself from their 1st time through, and I met up with them prior to the show. We were beyond ecstatic at the mere thought of seeing The Cramps that night, not to mention spending some time together. We went to the venue in the late afternoon — it was a gorgeous July day. The gear was there but the band had wandered off looking for food, so we waited. Soon, edging their way over the hill leading down to the club were, initially, 3 spiked/halos of hair (2 black and 1 orange), immediately materializing into the full bodies of Lux, Kid and Ivy with Nick (sans the big hair). Even when not trying to make an entrance, The Cramps always would. They were pleased to see us, and did some catching up, even though we didn’t really know them that well. Welcoming us into the dressing room as they got ready, Lux and Kid were using industrial strength hairspray from a case they’d brought along to put their hair in order for the show. This time, the set was even more jaw dropping than the year before. Nothing was compromised, didn’t matter that they were in a small town, the power was unstoppable. Lux was now on stage, and his uncontainable gift was unleashed. The ceiling tiles were dismantled, he sliced himself with glass, removed pretty much every stitch of clothing, this was just how it was, nothing fake, pure raw uncensored Lux. The Cramps were still at their beginning then, not playing big venues, not working with responsible and respectful professional promoters every night. This show was no exception. A local amateur had brought them in this time, offering transportation from NY, then on to Cleveland to begin the originally scheduled tour itinerary. This was a last minute fill in date. Despite selling out the club, and honoring exactly what they been contracted to do, this gentleman chose not to be upstanding and return his professional responsibility. He was unreachable the next day and The Cramps were stranded with no credit cards or vehicle to get them on to Cleveland. My phone rang around 11 AM. It was Ivy. She said ‘Kevin, we’re in trouble. Will you help us?” After a quick update from her, I put the phone down, rang Duane and we high tailed it over to their hotel, each in our separate cars to pick them up and figure out the next move.

We all came back to my house — I had an American Express card and literally $110 in the bank. I offered them the use of my credit card to rent a vehicle, the look of relief on Ivy’s face will never ever be forgotten. She promised they would pay for the car in cash once they got to Cleveland and hooked up with their crew. I trusted them. And they didn’t go back on their word, I never for a second thought they would. Our friendship was sealed. Little did that “promoter” know, he did the band and I the biggest favor ever via his unprofessionalism.

The whole day was not terrible though. Duane took Lux, Ivy and Nick junk shopping. Kid and I stayed back taping the new Siouxsie & The Banshees album. Kid was thrilled that I owned it, as it had just been released. When they returned, Lux spent some time going through my records, trading obscure anecdotes about many of the singles, seeing the sparkle in each other’s eyes as we drooled over the vinyl. His knowledge was frighteningly deep. He was not a fake. The band treated us to a late lunch before heading out of town. We saw them off, and still relive it to this day.

I would travel to NY and Toronto religiously to catch shows over the next few years. Never did this most important band, the true kings and queens of rock ‘n’ roll, make me or any of their fans feel uncomfortable or like 2nd class citizens. By ‘84 I had relocated to NY, working A&R at Elektra, then Island. I always wanted to sign them, but could never get the green light. Then in ‘92 I started my only label, Medicine, through Warner Brothers. Things happen for a reason, it’s true. This was no exception. Had I been able to do a deal with them prior to Medicine, I would have always been struggling to get them the deserved attention. Now I was in charge, and could call some shots. The timing was right. Lux and Ivy clearly agreed and we got into business together. It was one of the greatest periods of my professional and personal life. I knew they were all things good and honorable, but to experience their integrity, self respect, flawless instincts, dedication to their art, confidence in their self image, protection of their musical accomplishments — all done with great dignity, taught me much about business and life. Lux and Ivy included myself and Duane (who came to NY and worked with me at Medicine) on the making of the eventual Flamejob album. They had never shared this process with anyone before and I am forever honored.

Lux would spill brilliance at every turn, the littlest things had his mark all over them. He once sent along some works in progress on cassette, labeling it “The Cramps On Drugs” — crossing out “drugs” and writing in “Medicine” above it. One of hundreds and hundreds of brilliant ideas constantly flowing from him. Just listen to his lyrics. His mind was of a higher form of life. (from “Drug Train”: You put one foot up, you put another foot up, you put another foot up, and you’re on board the drug train or from “Inside Out And Upside Down With Yoy”: from your bottom to your top, you’re sure some lollipop). When the album was finally finished, Lux and Ivy had me up to their house to hear it. The 3 of us sat in their meticulously clean and fantastically furnished home, and listened to Flamejobtogether. They glowed with pride — and they deserved to, having made their best album yet, full of all the fire it’s title accurately describes.

The Cramps were never afforded national TV or any radio play of substance. We released “Ultra Twist” as a first single, and when it entered the alternative charts, the band would actually hear themselves on the radio in some cities — and either Lux or Ivy would be sure we knew. And when our publicist Lisa Barbaris, got them on Conan O’Brian, Lux was over the moon. His band was finally going to be on TV, a medium he’d been so influenced by as a teenager. It warmed our hearts to deliver this for them, and they always were thankful. He asked if he should tone it down for the broadcast; “God no, go over the top.” Which he did. But to ask first, again proved his respect for others and his responsibility to those he worked with.

It’s impossible to forget the many, many incredible moments of Lux on stage, and also realistically impossible to chronicle them all, but here are 3:

Playing The Ritz in NY during the Look Mom No Head tour, Lux was hit dead center by a hurled high top sneaker. Seamlessly strutting over to it in very high black heels and what was left of a tattered and stage weary matching pair of synthetic pants, he picked it up, filled it with red wine, drank every drop and returned it deep into the shocked audience without flinching or missing a beat.

At Trenton’s City Gardens, where the stage was accessed via a walk from the dressing room through the crowd, usually along the right wall, Lux began the show in a 2 piece thin jungle red rubber ensemble, with matching spikes and a string of pearls. As the mayhem progresses, he eventually breaks a bottle of wine, using the pieces to slice up his outfit. First of all, the tight rubber pants, although red, had a skin-like implication, so that as he sliced, the unsettling illusion of tearing his own flesh aghast the crowd. As the pants retreated from the damage, Lux was suddenly wearing a few fringes of rubber, much like popped balloons — shamelessly revealing all. Once the sonic annihilation of encore, “Surfin’ Bird”, was complete, the band needed to get back to the dressing room. A bit tricky when you’ve now decimated your clothing. Not a problem for Lux and The Cramps though. A spotlight suddenly flashes onto that side wall. Lux leads the band through the now parting sea of a crowd, wearing what’s left: the heels and the pearls, and flawlessly returns to the dressing room, Ivy, Slim and Harry, equally beautiful, following behind.

A real feat was accomplished by Lux over a 2 night stand in ‘97 at London’s Astoria. The second night being the greatest theater I have ever seen by a band in my entire life. And the 1st night started the process. Lux then slyly began a slow but steady loosening of the stage floor boards near the drum kit via his legendary mic stand iron works. That 2nd night, he continued the process. Even the sight of a shirtless and joyous John Peel being body surfed atop the mosh pit (he always did recognize the real deal legends) could not top Lux. By the time of the final encore, “Surfin Bird”, Lux had chewed up one of Ivy’s boots, teething it puppy style. He picked Ivy’s strings with his teeth, as she lay on her back, arching herself in a yoga stance with Lux between her legs (separated only by the guitar) simulating the most erotic oral sex imaginable, all set to a soundtrack of screeching feedback. He had now abandoned all but his g string and heels along the way. Once that sonic crescendo of white noise feedback had been reached, whereby Ivy, Slim and Harry have left the stage, Lux scales the top of the right PA, partial mic stand and 2 bottles of half drank wine in tow. He proceeds to guzzle one, then the other, pitching both onto the stage’s center, where he began the evening. Of course they smash into shards. He then dives from the PA onto the broken glass, microphone in mouth, howling as you would know him to have coined, lands front torso onto the glass, slithers himself snake-like towards the loosened floor, and with mic stand now doubling as a crow bar, proceeds to undo enough of the remaining bits to make his exit into the darkness of his self made floor cave. No one was ready for this. The roar of those 3000 people still makes me tingle. It has be the ultimate rock ‘n’ roll moment of civilization — past, present and future. After the show, Lux is sitting quietly picking bits of glass from himself, and asks humbly, “How was it tonight?” Lux knew he was an untouchable performer, but he never used his knowledge of this talent arrogantly. He was just the most amazing spirit — and will always be.

Kevin Patrick

Per Kevin’s request, we’re posting this video of The Cramps performing “Her Love Rubbed Off” in Amsterdam, Holland circa 1990. To quote Kevin, “You will never see anything better than this. Watch the whole thing — you’ll be worth more.”

Late last night as we were packing up our computers, getting ready to head home for the night, we started to hear whispers from the West Coast that Erick Lee Purhiser, aka Lux Interior, the lead singer and founding member of the influential garage-punk act the The Cramps had passed away the night before. Frantic searches to verify or contradict this rumor came up empty and speculation was high. After all, these rumors have been spread before and any fan of punk knows the occasional fake death is not uncommon, so we left work hoping for the best, but sadly fearing the worst. By the time we got home, those fears were realized via a press release in our inbox. Lux Interior was 62.

Born in Stow, Ohio, Interior started the Cramps in 1972 with guitarist Poison Ivy (born Kristy Wallace, later his wife) — whom, as legend has it, he picked up as a hitchhiker in California. By 1975, they had moved to New York, where they became an integral part of the burgeoning punk scene surrounding CBGBs. Interior’s name came “from an old car commercial” while his wife’s name change was inspired by “a vision she received in a dream”. The couple called their musical style psychobilly which was inspired by a Johnny Cash song though they later said they were just using the term as “carny terms to drum up business”

The press release:
February 4, 2009

The family requests that you respect their privacy during this difficult time.

For a look at the events as the information unfolded and some great video clips, head over to The Daily Swarm. For a more biographical look at Interior and The Cramps, check out MTV’s look back at the singer and his life.