Never Saw Wall of Voodoo

As easy as it was to indulge un-natural obsessions towards a woman with The Id Girl, my personal infatuation with Los Angeles New Wave band Wall of Voodoo will probably (or even hopefully, I think) be my epitaph.

I was introduced to this band in my mid teens, which really was bad timing for me as the band was already on its decline. To me they personified the perfect sound, through my greatest of loves, horror movies and the Wild West, using a balanced blend of a Duane Eddy style guitar with the dirtiest feedback and distortion of punk noise.

As a budding musician I was heavily influenced by the experimentalism of their sound adapting the use of household junk, primitive drum machines and storytelling which easily could have been from the lower middle class of my own background. From these handful of albums I embarked on a journey of creativity throughout underground music and film via David Lynch, Jodorowsky, The Long Ryders, Butthole Surfers and thousands more. Despite never experiencing them live, I believe it was Wall of Voodoo that unleashed my spiritual creativity, and stamped my belief in a style of individuality.
 
I wanted to pay homage with Never Saw Wall of Voodoo and yet avoid telling their story, which of course is not my duty to tell, although I am fascinated by its clear messages (all young musicians, look it up and learn) so to fantasize a life destroyed by unreasonable infatuation I felt as a good enough excuse to use WoV as soundtrack. Literally, when I did indeed miss their very last UK show I found myself fearful of leaving the country in case I missed them again.

I still would choose their version of “Ring of Fire” as the perfect soundtrack to my funeral. The only bummer is I would end up missing that experience too!