Kim Fowley dedicated this first volume of his Trilogy to his never-found Frankenstein's Bride, but Disaster Amnesiac is here to say that self-described Lord of Garbage sure found all manner of other folks with whom to work with, on, around and over.
Lord of Garbage intersperses Fowley's reflective poetry with a sharp recounting of his life from 1939-1969. The poems are great, rhyming, impressionistic vignettes that color his biographical descriptions of time spent being rejected by Hollywood B-list parents, kicking around tough foster home situations, battling not one but two bouts with polio, missing Rock-n-Roll's initial white-hot flare up due to military conscription, and then diving headlong into a self-reliant modus operandi as a music industry mover. Any reader that does not come away with at least an understanding (Fowley probably wound not want sympathy, anyway) of what makes his give no quarter/take no prisoners/fuck you-pay me perspective tick should be advised to turn back to page one and read the whole damn thing again.
Along the way we meet the likes of Joe Meek, Sky Saxon, Steppenwolf, Mark Lindsay, Sandy Nelson, Ambrose Slade, and Jimi Hendrix, just to name a few of the artists/collaborators that Kim came into contact with during his first decade in music industry hustle action. He gives witty, honest assessments of them, along with all of the other producers, A/R people, actors, actresses, saints and bozos that populate his crazed Rock-n-Roll world.
Disaster Amnesiac enjoyed reading volume 1 immensely, and is looking forward very much to the two subsequent volumes, already in the can. Pun intended.
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