bugpowderdust

Not a good few days for rock. First John Martyn goes (more of which tomorrow), and today some goon on Radio 6 spoiled my breakfast by telling me that Lux Interior had died. My abiding memory of The Cramps is my dad flicking through a copy of NME in, oooh 1989 or thereabouts, reading a piece on said band, and then looking up and saying to me, “You’re weird”. That, and this one, which used to knock ‘em dead at Club Zoo in Plymouth at about the same time.