Fire of Love - The Gun Club
"I'm going to buy me a graveyard all of my own
and kill everyone who ever did me harm"
Hank Williams staggered from the bar onto the dusty highway. StEaling an aXe from John Henry he chopped down electricity poles and JACKed up on electro convulsive blues, as a WOLF drove past in a tattered limousine HOWLING some artery rippinG pUNk yarn discovered rotting in a bootleggers shack by Harry Smith .
Stripped back, shredded roCk that stands beside bands Like The Stooges, The Birthday Party, Einstürzende NeUBauten in the intensity of its exorcistic orgies.
Shamanic lead singer Jeffrey Lee Pierce seemed to call up the ghosts of the past but only in seedy dives. I really wish I could have seen The Gun Club live at the time. When I put this record on I just want to dance. The little bit of teenage blood left in my weary veins pumps to my somnolent synapses and I shake like a preacher with the DT's and kick like a mule with a toothache while flapping my elbows like a dehydrated chicken. Elegance is not my thing.
Seriously though, this is an essential album, digging deep into the substrata of country music and the blues and reinvigorating it. Without The Gun Club would we have had The White Stripes? I doubt it. And for something so polluted with heroin, killers and the devil herself, there is something almightily PURE about this record.
I guess a Gun Club influence on me might be divined in this lullaby to drugs/love. You take your pick.