“I would like to take care of your stuff.” That’s what Henry Rollins said to Poison Ivy—who, with her forever-partner Lux Interior, founded rockabilly’s most primally aggressive ensemble, The Cramps—upon the discussion of her band’s original tapes, paperwork, and ephemera, which was residing in her LA County garage at the time. Of course Rollins wanted to take care of all things Cramps: Along with being an author-editor at his 2.13.61 Publications and host of a long-running KCRW show, Rollins is an archivist/detective type dedicated to literally preserving music and moments that hold historical import to him (and plenty of others). Aiding and abetting The Cramps in keeping their “stuff” intact, then, is a calling—an active duty—for Rollins. He’s even got a temperature-controlled space in his home in Nashville to prove his mettle, as well as his fierce dedication to what he considers legacy.
Such as The Cramps, to which I couldn’t agree more. At punk rock’s gleaming in 1976, the band presented a uniquely bizarre image and ferocious musical output: something macabre, perhaps kitschy at times, but always dangerous. If anyone was going to push you off the cliff, it was Lux and Ivy, whose outlandishly fun and nightmarish run ended when the former passed away in 2009. “Larry [Hardy, of In the Red Records] and Ivy were at my house in Los Angeles as I was discussing me—or someone—looking out after all of their carbon-based material,” Rollins tells me. “I wasn’t looking for ownership, but rather to maintain their archive. I knew that the tapes were in the garage because Luz and Larry loaded them in years before.”
After deciding that Rollins would be the man to oversee The Cramps’ deep vault, Hardy found seven quarter-inch tapes with writing on them that seemed to be a unifying “concept.” Upon questioning Ivy as to his find, she presented a rough sketch: After having originally recorded these songs at Ardent Studios in October 1977 with Alex Chilton during the sessions that yielded The Cramps’ Gravest Hits EP, Ivy and Lux went on to mix nine of the 12 tracks Hardy had just discovered (Chilton mixed the other three) at a North Hollywood studio in 1989. They’d intended to make Gravest Gravy their last-ever album to be released in 2008 “in order to go full-circle, present the songs you didn’t get to hear in 1977,” but upon Interior’s sudden illness, Ivy understandably didn’t wish to go ahead with the album project.
With some of the wounds of Lux’s passage healed, she gave the go-ahead to release Gravest Gravy nearly two decades later. The tapes were baked and sent to Rollins, who made his “‘keeps’ and ‘takes’ notes” from the original mixes with Ian McKaye (“whose ears I trust far more than mine”) further deciding upon its sound, vision, and running order. Rollins additionally credits Cramps team members such as Brian Kehew, Don Zientara, Pete Lyman, and Jo Murray for the vinyl version of Gravest Gravy that you have before you.
Or don’t. Because the first print run of Gravest Gravy sold out quickly following its August 21 debut. “No one imagined just how great the hardcore interest would be in Cramps vinyl,” Rollins says. “But I’m begging people to please not pay the stupid prices on eBay. More are being made, pressed in the United States, so the turnaround won’t be long.”
To go with the fresh release of Gravest Gravy, a 7-inch single mix from those same 1977 sessions produced an “alt mix and different vocal version” of “TV Set” paired with another alternate mix of “Can’t Find My Mind” as its B-side, which is set to be released in September. With that, here’s Rollins’ own fast and furious run down of every one of the 12 songs on Gravest Gravy.
1. “TV Set”
When The Cramps first went into Ardent, they wanted this track to be their first single’s A-side. It was love at first sight between Chilton and The Cramps. They felt safe with him. He brought them into Memphis, which was heaven for Lux and Ivy. But Alex was more organic than a guy choosing the A-side from the start. He just wanted to record every song that they’d been playing out and seeing what stuck out, naturally. That’s a great thing for a young band. Doing 15 songs and not three—you’re not stiff, you’re not pressured to worry about A-sides. You just play, sweat, and get into the moment. Lux came fully formed: great concert, great vocal control. I like this version of “TV Set” more than the Songs the Lord Taught Us album version. You should listen to how great [guitarist] Bryan Gregory is here, that discordant dun-dun-dun-dun at the beginning of the tracks. It’s really in-your-face. Most producers might have told Bryan to cool it. Alex knew, however, that such intensity was the essence of The Cramps. This is a really ripping version—and we have a lot of different mixes on this track, so we know how concentrated Lux and Ivy were on “TV Set.”
2. “Weekend on Mars”
This was a big live track of theirs. On the bootleg, Tales From The Cramps: Vol. 1, there’s a great version from the Hot House sessions in New York. There’s a live recording of it on Smell of Female. So this might be the first official studio-recorded release of it, but don’t hold my feet to the fire. It’s got a great riff, a dynamic vocal.
3. “Twist & Shout”
What’s fun about this is that it was a part of their live sets very early on, but came and went as newer original songs began to flood their set lists. There was, at one time, a different vocal attached to this: “drug train.” They went back and forth on what lyrics they would use. I prefer the “twist and shout” lyrics.
4. “Jungle Hop”
This song came out officially on Psychedelic Jungle with Kid Congo on guitar, so what you get on Gravest Gravy is Bryan Gregory Monday-morning quarterbacking. Both guitarists are great, but Bryan is just more aggressive, more dissonant. Kid was fuzzier and, like the album title portends, it’s hazier on Psychedelic Jungle. When Bryan went more aggro, [drummer] Nick Knox got more forceful and intense because The Cramps had no bass player. He got a lot of attitude from Bryan on this track, so this wound up as one truly gnarly version of this cover of a 1958 Kip Tyler song, with Alex guesting on keyboards under the name “Booker T. Chilton.”
5. “I Can’t Hardly Stand It”
This song was in The Cramps’ sets going back to the Max’s Kansas City/CBGB days, but Kid Congo did wind up recording a version later on. Lux has got a great vocal here on the 1977 take. This is a cover of a King Records Charlie Feathers song from 1956. Ivy and Lux really loved Charlie Feathers.
6. “Hungry”
Me being a tape trader nerd boy from day one, hearing this song done in a studio version in 1977 was a must. It’s a Paul Revere & the Raiders song from 1966 with Chilton playing the organ. The early CBGB and 9:30 Club—back when that spot was called The Atlantic—tapes had this track in their set lists. Real blink-and-you-miss-it stuff. I knew nothing about Paul Revere & the Raiders, and Cramps fans should be thrilled by the fact that they were covering a British Invasion band. They mostly played rockabilly covers.
7. “The Natives Are Restless”
This has a completely different lyric than the version they recorded on Psychedelic Jungle. I actually prefer these lyrics to the latter-day set that we’re more familiar with. This version is more hectic, Bryan Gregory at his best. A lot of the energy that you hear coming through on Gravest Gravy comes from nerves more than it does confidence. Even though Lux is large and in charge vocally, I think this record benefits from youthful enthusiasm. It’s more excitement than nerves. It’s like a dog on the first day of snow.
8. “Domino”
This song presented my greatest question mark when I received the reels. I mean, it was on the tapes they gave us, so it went on this record. But “Domino” had already been released on 7-inch. Why are we hearing a different version? The original was great.
The Cramps in London, 1979 / photos by Richard Bishop
9. “Can’t Find My Mind”
This is one of the more fun tracks that we find later released on Psychedelic Jungle. It’s also on some of the earliest Cramps live tapes—like Van Halen and Devo, so many of their earliest songs wound up on their second album. Great concept, being so high on something. Great rhyme. Think “Just Dropped In (To See What My Condition Was In).” We had two mixes on this song, but I really got grabbed by Lux’s heavy echo on the vocal on this take. You should A/B it against the Psychedelic Jungle version.
10. “Rockin’ Bones”
Ronnie Dawson, the Blonde Bomber, wrote this. It winds up later on Psychedelic Jungle, but what’s interesting about this early version is that it’s closer to other raw demo versions of their songs. They did this song the first time I saw them on April 20, 1979. The “raw bones, raw bones” shouting—that’s Bryan Gregory. Watching him scream while all of his acne scars turn bright pink—that guy terrified me. The Psychedelic Jungle version is very opiated. Great, but on ether. I love that this take is more uptempo.
11. “Problem Child”
This is another Max’s-era live track. Roy Orbison recorded this and claimed ownership. Sam Phillips did, too. There are documents to both effects. I don’t want to get called out by any musicologists. Anyway, remember that Chilton wanted them to play everything they had, and this is one of the best songs that flew in and out of their set lists in the early days.
12. “Rocket in My Pocket”
This is a 1958 Jimmy Lloyd track, and one of the greatest A-sides that I ever heard. When I first saw The Cramps, they did “Rockin’ Bones,” “Human Fly,” and “Rocket in My Pocket.” After the show, I wanted to hear these songs again, immediately. I never even realized at the time that only “Human Fly” was an original. I forever believed that they’d never made a studio version of “Rocket.” Hearing it now, going through those tapes—that was mind-blowing. After this track, we segue into Lux yelling and screaming right at the beginning of what was going to be a vocal take for “[I Was a] Teenage Werewolf.” Experienced Cramps fans will actually remember this yelling and screaming—an edit of this studio argument, Lux having a meltdown, going a little bit diva—as the CD extra on Songs the Lord Taught Us. There’s actually a longer version of his argument, Maybe we’ll put that out, too.
