I have a friend from high school who, whenever it’s some rock star’s birthday, posts a picture of same on his Facebook page, appended with a legend like “Today is the great Jimmy Page’s birthday. Thank you for the music, sir, enjoy your day!”… seemingly oblivious to the fact that Jimmy Page himself probably isn’t privy to my friend’s Facebook feed. It’s the thought that counts, I guess.
In any case, today happens to be the birthday of one Kristy Marlana Wallace, otherwise more notoriously known as the inimitable Poison Ivy Rorschach, former guitarist of The Cramps. Alongside her now-deceased spouse and partner in crime, Lux Interior, Poison Ivy provided a singular blend of endearingly sleazy rock n’ roll that cribbed from only the coolest elements of rockabilly, garage rock, fledgling punk and trashy American pop culture to mesh into a sound and sensibility that could only be produced by The Cramps. If you haven’t experienced them, your life is that much more boring, stuck-up, staid and humorless.
Lux Interior passed away in 2009, effectively putting an end to The Cramps. For all intents and purposes, in the wake of her beloved’s demise, Poison Ivy also vanished. She’s still alive -- now aged 66 -- but makes no cameos on other people’s records, plays no shows, does no photo shoots, gives no interviews, etc. She’s living quietly somewhere in Glendale, California.
But, once upon a time, there was nothing quiet about her. She didn’t speak much, preferring to let her guitar do the talking. And talk it fucking well did.
As a sophomore in college, I was once vehemently reprimanded for playing the below song on the air at our college radio station, WDUB 91.1 FM in Granville, OH. Funnily enough, it wasn’t so much the playing of the song in question, but rather my simple back-reading of its title that irked listeners. Evidently, it was okay for Lux Interior to sing it, but hearing a sniveling collegiate pencil-neck like myself utter the word “pussy” over the airwaves put certain people’s noses out of joint. Oh well.
The below clip is an amazing live recording – as The Cramps were surely in their element as a live, throbbing entity – but there’s a signature moment on the studio version of this song (off of 1985’s crucial LP, A Date with Elvis) that is also replicated here. At about 2:03 into the performance, Ivy underpins her solo with some of the raunchiest, low-end guitar crunch that is the quintessence of filthy badassery. It’s glorious.
Happy birthday, Poison Ivy Rorschach. Thank you for the music, ma’am. Enjoy your day.
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