Tall, flamboyant of dress, profane as James Joyce and possessed of a legend that rolls out before him like the fog at Dracula’s feet, Fowley is a man for whom literally everybody in the L.A. scene has a pre-set opinion. This interview by Ron Garmon.

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Kim Fowley is famous this week for being the bad guy in the Runaways movie, but he has two compilations on Norton worth purchase for liner notes alone. He plans to be buried in a clear casket with a gold telephone … if he ever lets the world find out he died. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

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New issue! See you at the release party Monday @ The Cha Cha Lounge! Find print issues here, buy back issues here and obtain a print subscription here. Please contact us if you’d like to advertise in the next one!
Inside you’ll find…
LUIS AND THE WILDFIRES
LEARNING MUSIC
YOKO ONO
TERRY RILEY
GIRLS
THE SLITS
ROUGH KIDS
JOEY ARIAS
DINOSAUR JR. by ALLISON AND [...]

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This naked lunch of “alternative Hollywood Babylon” (to borrow a phrase from Fowley) may not have been well-received or readily understood by much of contemporary society, but even the furthest from this subculture couldn’t deny the laudable brazenness and unadulterated energy put into the spectacle.—Not to mention the costumes!

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Time again for L.A. RECORD’s release party—this time with Piper from Pearl Harbor (as seen on the cover of the new issue) and Cole from Haunted Graffiti (UPDATE: Cole can’t make it but don’t worry, we got plans…) joining us in the back booth with the turntables plus who knows what other special guests? Free [...]

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New issue! See you at the release party Monday! Find print issues here and contact us if you’d like to advertise in the next one!

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Stream: Kim Fowley “Underground Lady”

(from One Man’s Garbage available this October on Norton)
We here at L.A. RECORD are diligent students of L.A.’s Animal God of the Streets and so we are happy to learn that Kim Fowley’s classic ’60s output (as producer, musician and fearsome inspiration) will be corraled on two separate LPs for the [...]

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Straight and Frankenstein tall stood Kim Fowley in the low-roofed Redwood Lounge last weekend. Presiding over another installment of “Hollywood Sexual Underground”, the legendary songwriter-producer-impresario was haranguing a roomful of sweating freaks and lovelies when I clambered in off the street on another boiling hot Friday night. “Are there any lesbians or drunks in the house tonight?” he intoned from somewhere near the ceiling, glowering about the narrow room like a rock ‘n’ roll Vincent Price.

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Kim Fowley once famously recommended Hollywood as a place for the cynical who’ve fouled their nests elsewhere. While it’s impossible not to marvel at the agglomeration of shitheels hoofing it in this basin, few can remain cynical around the fellow’s female entourage, most of which were running rampant at his Lipstick Orgy extravaganza at the Knit last Wednesday, the 20th. The tall and glowering host, father of a hundred chart hits across the decades and busy these days as ever, left briefing details to Christie Blood, the entirely delightful mistress-of-ceremonies for further cozening. Fowley’s shows always remind me of mid-1960s A.I. P. joint Dr. Goldfoot & the Bikini Machine, in which Vincent Price attempts to conquer the world with an elite force of pulchritudinous chickbots molded to every kink in ruling-class chauvinistic taste.

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