Trash. There I said it. It’s one of the essential ingredients in Horror punk. Trash, like the New York Dolls sang about, Trash in the way the Cramps would shout it, and Trash in that overdriven attitude of teen energy that all us old bastards only wish we could recapture. I have news for you kids, youth is wasted on the young. Speaking of young trash, one Alistair Hexx, before he changed his name to Jackson Phibes was a purveyor of near perfect trash when he fronted the band Color Me Psycho, which last I head he liked to call Color Me Sucko. Calgary Canada’s great fuzz and organ driven garage rock revivalist who while never overtly horror playing the Psychotronic playground of genre fair, bashing out tunes about sex, and weird gods, deadly cars and fear. Titles like: Sacred Valley Penetration, Let’s Play Doktor, What’s yer Phobia, and Sinister Urge might give you a hint of their genius madman act. They released one album, Pretend I’m you’re Father, and appeared on a couple of comps and then were no more…. The only thought that would keep one from weeping is the knowledge that the transformation of Mr. Hexx to Mr. Phibes also heralded the birth of a more refined and near perfect horror punk group, who’s identity will remain under wraps until… but I have said too much about that already. So for you fuzz fiends, I say, scour your local record emporium or one of them new fangled interweb money laundering places and see if you can score a copy of something, of anything by the late, the lost, the lamented Color Me Psycho.
next: just in time for Friday the 13th.... Roky Erickson....
My Trusted MOGs
Dude, I've never heard most of the horror-punk bands you've been writing about, but the posts have been interesting reads. Who names their album Pretend I'm Your Father? I almost choked on my sandwich when I read that title. TasteIessly hilarious.