The Cramps - Smell Of Female
Liking Elvis led to me liking Johnny Cash and Wanda Jackson and Hank Williams, but ultimately it led to me loving The Cramps, which in itself opened up a whole other darker, sleazier, fuzzier world of lost rock & roll and B movies.

I remember when I was 15, pretending to like this girl who fancied me. She played squash at Cheetham Hill Cricket Club in north Manchester, but had this really hot, 20-something wayward sister, that had a cool, 50s, Betty Page-style haircut and a poster of Lux [Interior] & [Poison] Ivy on her bedroom wall. I used to let said elder sister cut my hair in to a rock-a-billy quiff whilst listening to Smell Of Female in her room. They were erotic times. She was my dream woman; however, I was still only using my penis for stirring tea at that point, though occasionally, it would point randomly, but strong, at forgiving strangers [laughs].

Smell Of Female is probably the first record I learned how to play on guitar all the way through. Poison Ivy Rorschach, is a totally underrated musician, songwriter, arranger, producer and shone a light on a lot of old rock-a-billy and rock & roll records that would probably have been lost forever if it wasn’t for The Cramps covering them. In my book, Ivy is the greatest and coolest guitarist ever.