Jeffrey Lee Pierce (June 27, 1958 – March 31, 1996) was an American singer, songwriter and guitarist. He was one of the founding members of the 1980s punk band The Gun Club. He would have turned 50 today if he hadn’t exchanged the temporary for the eternal in his late thirties.
The Gun Club injected punk rock with doses of blues and country music. Pierce’s wailing vocals were an ideal delivery for his songs, which generally had a spooky, haunted quality.
Fire of Love was their debut album from whence came “Sex Beat,” released in 1981 on Ruby Records. “Sex Beat” is World Music Classic #48.
[Youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMdYi8pWPiw]
“Sex Beat” by The Gun Club
Choreography by Dipsetmuthafucka.
I’ve mentioned “Sex Beats” before here and the most memorable line of the song is: “We can f*** forever but you will never get my soul.”
They injected a lot more than that. I might be stating the obvious, but the Gun Club chose their name because they were into needles. They were ‘the feel of the steel’ types, according to a mutual friend; purely anecdotal, of course.
I used to play this tune in a club I DJ’d at in the French Quarter, 86-87, the old Deja Vu. Quite a place. Brings back some memories
It’s quite the tune, yes.
They were brilliant, I have nine of thier Lps and went to see them live a few times in the early 80s. I also used to go to see The Cramps, also a Swedish group, The Nomads, and an amazing Australian group The Scientists. (The Scientists played support for the Gun Club)
The Scientists have a really unique sound, influenced by the Stooges and Suicide but very much thier own. There are two compilation CDs, “Blood Red River 1982-1984” and “The Human Jukebox 1984-1986”. They got back together in 2006 and recorded a live CD “Sedition” released 2007. They sound as good now as they did then. “Sedition” is probably my fave record from last year, that and Grinderman, those old Australian blokes know how to scream a tune.
The whole garage rock scene was our scene too from 1983 until about 1990, when we started to investigate reggae and black music in general.
The Cramps, The Nomads, The Fleshtones etcetera, every country had its own garage rock revival bands. The originals released on Nuggets is what brought most of us to the genre. Aah, fond memories of tracks such as Mr Pharamacist, here in a cover by The Fall but originally by the other half. There was also Strychnine, which I’ll make a WMC one day.
J
I last saw The Cramps in September 2003 in London, they were still great, at the end of the concert Lux went totaly insane, threw himself about the stage, cut off his rubber trousers with broken glass, pulled Ivy to the floor and dragged off one of her long boots, which he put his head into, then rolled naked about the floor, smeared in blood and dirt, with the boot on his head while yanking on his penis and screaming as if he was terrified.
He was in his late 50s, so here is someone who knows how to grow old gracefully. I was with my teenage daughters, one of them turned to me grinning from ear to ear and said “Now that, Dad, is Grotesque” – she meant “Grotesque” as we mean it, as fantastic and wonderful.
I worship this band. The guy who turned me on to them, an ex-marine at an independent bookstore on Penn’s campus, also turned me onto Thomas Bernhard and Cioran. I owe this guy A LOT. He handed me his cassette copy of Fire of Love and I listened to it every day on the train to and from work. Jeffrey Lee Pierce was the only picture we had hanging in the stock room.