Lydia Lunch
NO WAVE FURIE
What music are you currently grooving to?
Ian White’s new LP Blyth. Groovy, evocative, wonderfully diverse. Joseph Keckler – The Ride. A forlornly romantic lament that brings goosebumps of bliss. His version of Portishead’s Sour Times is also bruisingly gorgeous. Sexy as hell. Lush and masterful. Girls will gush. I do.
What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favourite album? Blaine L. Reininger & Steven Brown, 100 Years Of Music: Live in Lisbon. It’s so hauntingly beautiful I cannot even listen to it. The perfect recording to prevent or pervert a suicide.
What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it? I don’t remember buying records but I was a master vinyl thief. Well, one will do what needs be done. Space Oddity by Bowie, Transformer
Lou Reed, Black Sabbath’s by
Paranoid I’m sure topped the list.
Which musician, other than yourself, have you ever wanted to be? Are you kidding? All my favourite musicians died young, lived too long or were just plain assholes. I’d rather be a trapeze artist, long distance ice trucker, lion tamer, bounty hunter, bootmaker, mortician or forensic psychologist. And to some degree – I am a mutant version of all the above. I don’t wish being a musician on anyone. Brutal existence. Not for the lily livered.
What do you sing in the shower?
I don’t… I murmur, whisper, purr and rant in the bath a most murderous and improvised form of Delta (of Venus) Blues.
The first two albums on repeat as you bash your bones into the most beautiful boy on the planet… or at least a suitable replicon of what Iggy Pop once looked like circa 1969. FUCK! If only.
And your Sunday morning record? Miles Davis Sketches Of Spain transports me to another time, another place, somewhere languid, luxurious, outside of everything and everyone.