Graham Russell's DJ'ing Résumé

/ Photo by Adrian Lourie /

I first thrust myself onto an unsuspecting world as a DJ circa 2008, gradually progressing from my public debut at a friend's birthday party to playing in a wide range of clubs, bars and even festivals, ultimately launching my own semi regular club night Lobotomy Room in 2012.

/ The first Lobotomy Room flyer by Ego Rodriguez /

Obviously I vary things a bit depending on where I’m playing, but my music policy can probably best be described as “vintage sleaze”: I like to whip together a mixture of frantic 1950s rhythm & blues (the Fifties really is my decade), desperate rock’n’roll and rockabilly, beatnik Cool Jazz, Latin exotica, lounge, twang-y surf instrumentals, sleazy titty shakers, novelty stuff and curiosities – atmospheric and obscure weird shit, basically! And I aim to keep it punk-y, confrontational and abrasive as opposed to too nostalgic, purist or soothingly retro (especially once I've had a few drinks).




My first real break was in 2008 via guest DJ’ing stints at Cockabilly (London’s only monthly queer rockabilly night for gay greasers, punks, leather boys, cry-babies, prison wives and juvenile delinquents of all ages). Cockabilly venue-hopped a lot in the early years: I managed to DJ at all of its residencies at The Moustache Bar, The Haggerston, The Dalston Superstore, The George and Dragon in Shoreditch and Bloc Bar in Camden Town.

Read about the squalid proceedings at previous Cockabilly nights here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here,  here, here, here and here.

Since 2009 I've also been the regular resident DJ at the monthly burlesque-meets-drawing class / Anti- Art School cabaret night Dr Sketchy. Emceed by cabaret aristocracy like Dusty Limits and Ophelia Bitz, Dr Sketchy originally happened three times a month at three different venues: The Paradise in Kensal Green, The Old Queen’s Head in Angel and The Royal Vauxhall Tavern in Vauxhall. These days it is once a month, solely at The RVT.

In September 2012 I DJ’d five shows a day at the Time for Tease tent at Bestival (four Time for Tease shows a day, and one Dr Sketchy show each night) to the biggest crowds I've ever played before. It was draining but exhilarating! 

At Dr Sketchy’s I've had the opportunity to work closely with the crème de la crème of striptease performers.  Over the years I've become a kind of musical advisor to some of them (I'm the "go-to" man for grinding tittyshaker instrumentals): the likes of Kiki Kaboom, Cherry Shakewell, Sophia St Villier and even Bunny Pistol in San Francisco have all incorporated songs I've recommend into their routines.

/ Above: Lobotomy Room flyer by Joe Pop /

By the end of 2012 it felt like a natural progression to venture into organising my own club night. My vision for Lobotomy Room was informed by my decades of clubbing and bar hopping, in particular by More than Vegas in London, Squeeze Box in New York and San Francisco’s Hole in the Wall Saloon. I pictured Lobotomy Room as a low brow Mondo Trasho punkabilly beer blast, with a rancid musical approach informed by John Waters soundtracks and Songs The Cramps Taught Us.

Initially I mainly alternated between two venues:  Paper Dress Vintage in Shoreditch and Ryan’s Bar in Stoke Newington (there was one memorable night at Hysteria in Dalston, too). When my Paper Dress Vintage permanently shut its Shoreditch location (another casualty of gentrification!), I felt a bit bereft. But then in summer 2015 I was invited to re-launch Lobotomy Room at a new permanent monthly home (last Friday of every month) at Dalston’s premiere Art Deco vice den Fontaine’s.  In fact, I’m in Fontaine’s Polynesian-style basement Bamboo Lounge – a Mondo Exotica Tiki paradise! The music (desperate stabs from the jukebox jungle!) is putrid, admission is free and I project vintage erotica on the big screen for your adult viewing pleasure. Come for the £6 cocktails - stay for the trashy music and dirty movies! A tawdry good time is guaranteed!

In November 2015, I diversified and instigated Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies, a free monthly film club in Fontaine’s Bamboo Lounge (last Wednesday of every month). The emphasis is on the cult, the camp and the queer, with the hope of reviving the communal (and boozy!) experience of old-school midnight movies. Some of the titles I’ve screened to date include Kitten with a Whip, Desperate Living, The Wild, Wild World of Jayne Mansfield, Valley of the Dolls and Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Read Loverboy Magazine's account of a visit to Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies here. 

/ Above: Lobotomy Room flyer by Ego Rodriguez /

/ Above: Lobotomy Room flyers by Ego Rodriguez /

Read about all the previous antics at Lobotomy Rooms to date here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here , here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here. 

Otherwise, I've made some fun and notable guest appearances over the years: In 2009 I DJ’d at the Christmas staff party for high-end luxury reproduction / faux-vintage lingerie boutique What Katie Did at The Paradise in Kensal Green (the night ended with Lily Allen’s friends causing a fight and the police being called!). When Sparkle Moore and Cad van Swankster, the proprietors of the chi chi vintage clothing emporium The Girl Can’t Help It had a farewell party at Ryan’s Bar before relocating to San Diego in April 2011, I was invited to be one of the featured DJs. Art Wank is Ophelia Bitz’s cabaret night centred around screening her huge collection of 1920s stag films (porn with dead people, essentially).  I was an obvious choice to DJ afterwards when she held one of these at The Royal Vauxhall Tavern in February 2012.  Since then, I've appeared several times at the queer rock'n'roll night Wild Thing at The Retro Bar in Charing Cross. Read about those here, here and here. On Easter Sunday 2016 I channeled my hillbilly roots DJ'ing at The Glory's annual barn dance. 

I definitely reached a kind of acme DJ’ing at immersive cult cinema organisers The Amy Grimehouse’s 12-hour John Waters Filth Fest on 29 March 2014. DJ’ing to such a wild, freaky, trashy and appreciative crowd while scantily-clad drag queens and Divine lookalikes did stripper squats and slut drops really spoiled me.

/ Contestants of Filthiest Person competition at The Filth Fest (photo by Alex Menace) /

For more information, email me: garussell1969@gmail.com

Wild Thing DJ Set List 6 February 2013

/ 1960s beefcake model Rock Granger demonstrating How to Stuff a Mesh Posing Pouch: I also love his old school tattoos (check out the classic Sailor Jerry-style one of the hula girl on his forearm) /

Joe Pop (the main man behind weekly queer rock’n’roll club night Wild Thing, every Wednesday night at The Retro Bar in Charing Cross) is currently holidaying in San Francisco, so for this Wild Thing Phil Clark and I were drafted to fill in behind the decks.

/ The flyer the fabulously talented Joe Pop designed for this Wild Thing night /

I had been looking forward to DJ'ing at this Wild Thing for ages, but unfortunately it turned out to be a messy night bedeviled by some catastrophic technical glitches! Phil DJs at The Retro Bar regularly and as he put it, the geriatric PA is pretty much glued together by dirt! Thank Christ Phil has technical expertise about these things otherwise there might not have been any music at all (I’m not of much assistance in these circumstances. I'm more of a sensitive artiste who just turns up and hopes the decks work). I was playing CDs and he was using vinyl; Phil was getting no audio at all from one of the turntables and had to pry open the back of the decks to locate loose wires and attempt to reconnect them (I stood there holding a flash light and watching the sweat beads pop out on his head. It was like an action movie where someone has to defuse a bomb). Then, once he got that working, we realised the speakers were well and truly BLOWN on one side of the room: no matter how loud we cranked up the volume, people were comfortably talking over the music without even having to raise their voices (while we in the DJ booth could barely hear what we were playing). Meanwhile, on the other side of the room by the bar, the audio was blisteringly loud, muddy and fuzzy! I compensated by playing a mostly noisy punk set.  If The Retro Bar wants to hold club nights with DJs, the management should consider getting the basics right first and invest in a decent sound system.

Anyway, Phil and I soldiered on (the complimentary beers certainly helped) and perversely, it turned out to be a good night in spite of everything. My friends Paul and Dez were there (once I realised the sound wasn't working I texted another friend not to come!), and we had one garrulous eager beaver coming up with multiple song requests (I wouldn't normally play Vince Taylor's "Brand New Cadillac" unprompted), who at least danced around enthusiastically. (He also asked for The Cramps: I compromised by playing the original version of "Goo Goo Muck" by Ronnie Cook and The Gaylads, which he seemed to dig. I'm not a people pleaser!).

I’m actually really happy with my set (I wanted it to be confrontational, aggressive and punk-y, which I think it was), even if only punters on one side of the bar got to hear it! (The emphasis was on Los Angeles punk in particular, one of my favourite schools of punk: the mighty X, The Germs, The Alley Cats. I remember someone pointing out years ago, New York and London had hip, credible lineages to draw on: New York punks could reference the Velvet Underground and the Warhol scene, whereas London punks had the likes of Roxy Music and Bowie. In their recent past, Los Angeles punks had howlingly naff soft rockers Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles and Linda Ronstadt – no wonder they were so nihilistic and angry! They had a lot to rebel against. If you're interested in exploring the original Los Angeles punk subculture, I highly recommend the awesome CD Jon Savage Presents Black Hole: Californian Punk 1977-1980, compiled by the author of England's Dreaming).

/A tender love song via Turbonegro /

 / Did anyone ever have better hair than Billy Fury? /

From the book Rock’n’Roll Confidential by Penny Stallings:

“In the years that preceded the beat explosion of the sixties, the British rock scene consisted mostly of Elvis imitators – pretty boys like Adam Faith, Tommy Steele and Billy Fury, with vaselined pomps, pink socks and guitars they couldn't play ...”

What an unfair assessment of Billy Fury! Stallings’ book came out in 1984, and fortunately Fury (born Ronald Wycherley, 17 April 1940 – 28 January 1983) has been more generously reappraised since his premature death as perhaps the greatest British rockabilly singer. But hey, I am a lurid sensationalism freak so rather than argue about Fury’s musical merits, this time I’m going to ask: was Billy Fury gay? Let’s have a heated debate! To  paraphrase that great thinker Homer Simpson, “If celebrities didn’t want us picking through their garbage and spreading rumours that they’re gay, they shouldn’t have expressed themselves creatively.”

Fury has been dead for so long (and his heyday even longer ago), he’s remembered today primarily by rockabilly enthusiasts. The rockabilly contingent particularly reveres Fury for his vicious 1960 debut The Sound of Fury, widely regarded as the most authentic and unvarnished rock’n’roll album to emerge from the UK in that era (it still sounds brooding, frantic and sexy today). The combination of Fury’s snarling delivery and the cover image of the sullen blond Liverpudlian rocker in a sparkly lamé suit (deliberately referencing Elvis Presley’s famous Nudie gold lamé suit from the cover of his 50,000 Elvis Fans Can’t Be Wrong album) is timelessly irresistible and (much as I hate the word) iconic.  

The quality ain't great -- but explosive, grainy fragment of a raw Billy Fury tearing his way through "Don't Knock Upon My Door from The Sound of Fury on TV in 1958. 

The Sound of Fury peaked at number 18 -- apparently not a big enough hit to please the suits. Afterwards Fury was discouraged from recording his own original material, and steered towards a more commercial teen idol / romantic balladeer direction. While it’s an undeniable shame Fury wasn’t permitted to record more of his own rockabilly material and had to compromise his artistic ideals (and it did him no favours with tiresome rock purists), his subsequent lush pop ballads like “Last Night Was Made for Love” and “Halfway to Paradise”, packed with drama and yearning, are actually pretty great and were chart successes.



/ A far smoother, more show biz Billy Fury by the early 1960s in variety performer / crooner mode /

In 1962 Fury made his film debut in Play It Cool (directed by a very young Michael Winner, the notorious celluloid hack who died recently and was responsible for some of the worst films ever made). I haven’t seen Play it Cool since the 1990s, but I recall it as barely serviceable drive-in / B-movie schlock. (Imagine the worst Elvis vehicle, relocated to London and with a bargain basement budget). Fury was no actor, and looked tangibly uncomfortable onscreen – and yet still managed to exude heavy-lidded erotic magnetism even while lip-synching to his corniest songs.

You can watch the whole film above. Be warned: it's no great shakes!

Offstage, there certainly were romances with women, which were publicised in the press – but did Fury have a secret life? People who encountered Fury often described him as shy, remote, sensitive and depressed (and an enthusiastic pot smoker). With the game-changing arrival of fellow Scousers The Beatles and the ensuing turbulent youth quake as the 1960s progressed, popular tastes changed dramatically and Fury was suddenly yesterday’s man. It didn’t help that health problems forced Fury to stop touring. His heart had been weakened by a childhood bout with rheumatic fever: it left him with delicate health, and he apparently knew he was destined to die young. Like Brigitte Bardot and Doris Day, once he was out of the limelight Fury focused his attention on animal rights (he was particularly keen on horses and birds).  At a particularly low point in the late 1970s Fury was forced to declare bankruptcy. 

By the early 80s a broke and ailing Fury hit the comeback trail. Photos and Youtube clips depict him as still handsome, but with a deep orange fake tan (perhaps to make him look healthier than he really was) and unbecoming blow-dried  hairdo (he should have stuck with his impeccable quiff). Towards the end, Fury re-recorded his classic 1960s hits for the tacky K-tel label. I once bought this version by mistake (the CD cover misleadingly had a photo of the young Billy Fury). Late-period Fury’s voice was still beautiful, but weakened and drained of energy -- almost eerie, a ghost of his former self. Billy Fury died of a heart attack at the tragically early age of 42.

The gay theory could certainly be linked to Fury’s connection to manager Larry Parnes, one of the first great pop impresarios in British music -- who happened to be unapologetically gay. It was Parnes who discovered the teenaged Wycherley, re-christened him and groomed him for stardom. Famously, Parnes built his own star system of early British rock’n’roll idols, giving his cute protégées what now sound like outrageously campy and suggestive names (Tommy Steele, Marty Wilde, Vince Eager, Dickie Pride and Lance Fortune). Parnes also set the template for Brian Epstein with The Beatles and Kit Lambert with The Who later on, creating the enduringly popular theory that gay managers have an innate insight into what appeals to teenage girls.

Fury never managed to crack the international market. I only became aware of his existence once I moved to London in the early 1990s and was instantly attracted to Fury’s soaring voice and dreamy heartthrob looks. For kitsch reasons, I valued Fury as the British Elvis manqué , the male equivalent of pouting platinum blonde sex bomb Diana Dors (the British Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield).

/ Eddie Cochran and Billy Fury backstage in 1960 (I played tracks by both of them at this Wild Thing) /

In those pre-internet days I was able to earn extra money writing for music and men’s print magazines. The journalist John Gill and I were both contributors to the now-defunct Vox magazine. Gill kindly referenced and acknowledged my MAXIMUMROCKNROLL interview with maverick British queercore musician Tongueman (RIP, Spud Jones) in his 1995 book Queer Noises: Male and Female Homosexuality in Twentieth-Century Music. When I was sent a complimentary copy, I was surprised to read:

“Another pop figure from the 1960s who is now known to have been gay is Billy Fury, one of the many Elvis Presley clones that were factory farmed by the British music industry in the wake of rock’n’roll. Unlike many of his contemporaries, however, Fury did write a number of his remarkable nineteen chart hits. At this remove, however, Fury is probably more memorable for the fact that he was managed by queer entrepreneur Larry Parnes than for his impact on the history of rock’n’roll."

He’s “now known ...?” Is he? I would have loved for Gill to pursue this further, because Fury’s homosexuality (or bisexuality) is far from common knowledge and still feels un-documented. 

As well as rockabillies, Fury is also lovingly remembered by Morrissey fans. Always a connoisseur of homo-erotic images and firm male flesh, Morrissey’s infatuation with Billy Fury is perhaps inevitable. “He’s virtually the same as James Dean,” Morrissey told Sounds in June 1984. “He too was entirely doomed, which I find quite affectionate ....”

From the biography Morrissey: Scandal and Passion by David Bret:

“Liverpool-born Billy Fury was an ethereal-looking young man who had always wanted to be a rock star and enjoy the hedonistic lifestyle that went with it. Perhaps terrified of his sexuality becoming public knowledge, he had more or less taken over Johnnie Ray’s “tears on my pillow” mantle, and found fame with heartfelt ballads such as “Halfway to Paradise” and “I’d Never Find Another You.” Morrissey included Fury’s photograph on the sleeve of The Smiths’ “Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me” (but wisely refrained from etching “Eaten by Vince Eager” on the vinyl, a reference to one of Fury’s stable mates, when warned of the possible repercussions). He also championed Fury in “Paint A Vulgar Picture.” Both tracks were recorded in the spring of 1987 for Strangeways Here We Come.”

Ideally a thorough, warts-and-all biography will eventually emerge about Fury which sets the record straight. A true unsung pop hero, his life and career certainly warrant one. His surviving family seem to keep a tight grip on protecting Fury’s image, though, and this looks unlikely. Anything that deviates from the official line certainly would be unlikely to receive their authorisation.

Let’s give the last word to Jake Vegas. In December 2011 my friend Ms Mansfield and I went to Boz Boorer's Christmas party at a pub in West Hampstead. It’s not a neighbourhood I’m familiar with at all. As soon as we left the tube station and crossed the street, we were confronted with a huge and beautiful spray-painted mural of Billy Fury! I later learned the location was chosen because Fury recorded many of his biggest hits at the Decca studios, which used to be nearby. It prompted a quick photo session!

/ The glamorous Ms Mansfield in front of the Billy Fury mural in West Hampstead. Shame about the location of the black garbage bag. [Update as of 2017: I've passed the Billy Fury mural a few times this year and sad to report it's now hopelessly defaced by graffiti!] /

/ The original photo the mural is based on /

How to be timelessly cool: Ms Mansfield and Jake at the club night More Than Vegas circa 1995 ...

Ms Mansfield and Jake at Boz Boorer's Christmas party in December 2011

Afterwards at Boz’s party Ms Mansfield and I mentioned the Billy Fury mural to Soho habitué and sleazy blues shouter Jake Vegas. Without a trace of sentimentality he recalled, “I met Billy Fury once in the 1970s. He was as camp as Christmas.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Joe Pop has already used Billy Fury's image on a Wild Thing flyer

Further reading:

Nice, thorough documentary about Billy Fury on Youtube

Billy Fury's bio on Allmusic Guide

Little Girl - John and Jackie
Wiped-Out - The Escorts
Heartbreak Hotel - Buddy Love
Muleskinner Blues - The Fendermen

Little Queenie - The Bill Black Combo
You Give Me Worms - Turbonegro (for Eric)
Nothing Means Nothing Anymore - The Alley Cats
Pillowcase - The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black
Johnny Hit and Run Pauline - X
Boss - The Rumblers
What Do You Think I Am? Ike and Tina Turner
Brand New Cadillac - Vince Taylor
Handclappin' Time - The Fabulous Raiders
Gonna Type a Letter - Billy Fury
C'mon Everybody - Sid Vicious
Mean Muthafucking Man - Wayne County and The Electric Chairs
Punks Get off the Grass - Edith Massey
Goo Goo Muck - Ronnie Cook and The Gaylads
I Don't Care - The Ramones
Contact - Brigitte Bardot
Margaya - The Fender Four
Batman - Link Wray and The Raymen
Breathless - Arlie Neaville
Treat Me Right - Mae West
Rockin' Out the Blues - The Musical Linn Twins
Woo Hoo - The Rock-A-Teens
Forming - The Germs
Someone to Love - Les Ritas Mitsouko (for Gibran)
Tongue-Tied Jill - Charlie Feathers
Can't Stop Thinking About It - The Dirtbombs
Suey - Jayne Mansfield
Sweetie Pie - Eddie Cochran

Wild Thing DJ Set List 18 July 2012

I found myself DJ’ing at The Retro Bar for vintage trash queer club night Wild Thing again on 18 July 2012. It was a last-minute gig: my friends Christopher Raymond and Paul Kennedy were meant to be guest DJ’ing alongside Joe Pop (the brains behind Wild Thing) that night, but Paul had to drop out at short notice. I was planning to go just to hang out, anyway, when Christopher texted me asking if I’d be interested in co-DJ’ing with him. To paraphrase the late, great Gore Vidal (a timely reference! RIP), I never turn down the opportunity to have sex, appear on television or DJ – so I quickly packed my DJ bag and rushed to the venue.

If the set list below looks exceptionally short, it was because our set was only an hour long and we “alternated” as a tag team, me on CDs and Christopher on vinyl. (I don’t have Christopher’s tracks to add to the set list, but his were more modern / post-punk: I definitely recall some Boss Hog, Holly Golightly, The Cramps, Babes in Toyland, “Atomic Bongos” by Lydia Lunch, "White Mice" by The Mo-dettes). The partnership worked well, and the flowing pints of icy lager only added to the inspiration. Both of us chose Link Wray for our opening tracks, which meant back-to-back Link Wray songs – but how can you possibly have too many twang-y, ominous Link Wray instrumentals? (Mine, “The Shag”, is of course the opening theme tune to John Waters’ Pink Flamingos – ensuring it will always hold a special place in my heart).

/ Black T-Shirt Convention: Christopher and I (double chin alert) photographed at The Retro Bar on 18 July 2012. Une photo originale par Joe Pop /

As ever, I endeavoured to pack in a varied selection of urgently sleazy music: some punk (X, Sid Vicious), hillbilly (Hasil Adkins), surf (The Fender Four), titty-shaking stripper instrumentals (The Hustlers), cooing / purring sex kittens (Ann-Margret, Mamie Van Doren) and weird Satan-worshipping voodoo shit (Esquerita).

I also worked in a mini-tribute to Kenneth Angers’s 1963 experimental / avant-garde homoerotic short film Scorpio Rising. I know I bang on about this film a lot, but I saw it at an impressionable age and it definitely had a transformative effect on me – it contributed to making me the twisted fuck I am today! I frequently dip into the songs Anger used on the soundtrack to Scorpio Rising when I DJ as a bit of an homage to the master - on this occasion, Elvis’s “Devil in Disguise” and Ricky Nelson’s “Fools Rush In.” Which is a nice excuse to post a photo of Ricky at the height of his beauty. (Sigh).

Here’s a tantalising fragment of Scorpio Rising to whet your appetite: you just hear the tail end of Ricky Nelson’s “Fools Rush In” before the music fades into “Wind Up Doll” by Little Peggy March. Now make it your mission to track down Kenneth Anger: The Complete Magick Lantern Cycle on DVD (easy enough on Amazon). You will thank me later.



Christopher has also asked me to point out he spun a track off a weird Halloween novelty compilation record on the Crypt label entitled Monster Rock’n’Roll, with truly inept but heartfelt “outsider art” cover art of Frankenstein jiving with a pony-tailed girl in a graveyard (I think it was done by a violent psychobilly prisoner in solitary confinement. See for yourself here).

Afterwards, while Joe Pop himself DJ’d I caught up with my work colleague, American ex-pat Eric. We bonded by reminiscing wistfully about our mutual all-time favourite rancid dive bar in the world: The Hole in the Wall in San Francisco. (Eric used to live in San Francisco). By then I was very drunk.

OK, enough of my wittering. Time for naked vintage beefcake – and I’m not feeling particularly “safe for work” today. I’ve mentioned before how Joe Pop’s designs for Wild Thing flyer images are nice mini-masterpieces of pop art. Unsurprisingly, gay icon / Warhol superstar Joe Dallesandro is a frequent source of inspiration.

/ In the shower with Little Joe: a relatively un-corrupted (pre-junkie, anyway) teenage Dallesandro in his nude modelling days /



The Shag - Link Wray and His Ray Men
She Said - Hasil Adkins
Little Boy / Little Girl - John and Jackie
Fools Rush In - Ricky Nelson
Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley
Oh Lonesome Me - Ann-Margret
Somethin' Else - Sid Vicious
Dancing with Tears in My Eyes - X
8 Ball - The Hustlers
Go Calypso - Mamie Van Doren
Ballad of Thunder Road - Robert Mitchum
Big Bounce - Shirley Cadell
Esquerita and The Voola - Esquerita
I Stubbed My Toe - Bryan "Legs" Walker
Margaya - The Fender Four
Stranger in My Own Home Town - The Earls of Suave

/ I don't blame him. I wouldn't be able to stop staring, either /

Wild Thing DJ Set List 4 July 2012

/ 1960s Hair Hopper – Swiss style! Photo by Swiss cult / outsider photographer Karlheinz Weinberger from his book Rebel Youth /

Since starting my half-assed, harebrained DJ’ing “career” all those years ago (actually, not that many years ago), I estimate I’ve DJ’d pretty much everywhere in London: South (Vauxhall), North (Angel and Stoke Newington), West (Kensal Green) and best of all, East (Dalston and Shoreditch) – but never before in the actual West End. So this gig at the club night Wild Thing at The Retro Bar in Charing Cross officially represented my glittering West End debut. I’ve arrived! “Won’t you come and give me a warm hand on my big opening?” I urged everyone on Facebook. “Give me the clap I so richly deserve?” (Yes, I will keep recycling those jokes).

Retro queer record hop Wild Thing is the brainchild of artist, club promoter and DJ Joe Pop. Sprung on the world in January 2011 (first on a monthly basis, then weekly – it’s currently every Wednesday at the Retro Bar), the Wild Thing music policy is essentially (in the words of its Facebook page) “raunchy rock’n’roll, girl group melodramas, retro pop wonders and snot nosed punk of every type ... It’s got great hair, a bad attitude, a stuffed bra and possibly a switchblade in its back pocket! It’s the soundtrack to a John Waters / Tarantino / Warhol movie starring YOU!”

Needless to say, Wild Thing fits my own squalid musical aesthetic like a tight (wet) t-shirt, so when I was invited to guest DJ I leapt at the chance.

(Joe Pop has a real flair for creating striking iconic flyers for Wild Thing. Here are some of my favourites)

/ Tribute to Kenneth Anger's Scorpio Rising /

/ Tribute to Jayne Mansfield /

/ Tribute to Little Richard /

For this night I DJ’d as part of a duo with Phil Clark. He did the first hour; I had an hour solo, and then for the last hour we were an alternating tag team. The space behind the decks is tiny. Two people crammed back there is pretty intimate. A certain amount of lager was drunk. There may have been times when my tongue might have been in Phil’s mouth and my hand jammed down the back of his jeans; after a few drinks I get wandering “party hands”. But hey, the Retro Bar patrons are worldly and broad-minded adults and it all added to the night’s louche, anything goes, Max's Kansas City ambiance.

My set was pretty much a variation of what I used to play at London’s gay greaser night Cockabilly: think sleazy titty-shaking instrumentals, wailing rhythm and blues (Little Richard and Esquerita are, after all, the mothers – muthas? – of us all), white trash hillbilly rockers, punk and assorted confrontational / abrasive kitsch.

/ Me - DJ'ing at Wild Thing on 4 July 2012. Eine foto von my glamorous friend Lauren Jones. That Hillbilly Hop t-shirt is now so old it qualifies as vintage /

Speaking of Cockabilly: it’s been on hiatus since The George and Dragon kicked it out (well, refreshed their club night policy if you prefer) at the beginning of January 2012. The good news is Cockabilly is back, back, BACK! Tenacious and resilient promoters Mal and Paul have found a new venue in Dalston and they re-launched Cockabilly on Thursday 5 July. The timing was unfortunate: I was way too hung over from Wild Thing the night before to even contemplate going, but I’ll definitely report back after the August Cockabilly.

And now -- finally an excuse to post some vintage beefcake ...

Deuces Wild - Link Wray
Heartbreakin' Special - Duke Larson
Muleskinner Blues - The Fendermen
Jim Dandy - Sara Lee and The Spades
Hand Clapping Time - The Fabulous Raiders
Ain't That Lovin' You, Baby? The Earls of Suave
Beat Party - Ritchie and The Squires
Breathless - X
Chop Suey Rock'n'Roll - The Instrumentals
Bombie - Johnny Sharp and The Yellow Jackets
Funnel of Love - Wanda Jackson
Bottle to the Baby - Charlie Feathers
Crawfish - Johnny Thunders and Patti Paladin
Dance with Me Henry - Ann-Margret
Kruschev Twist - Melvin Gayle
C'mon Everybody - The Sex Pistols
Booze Party - 3 Aces and a Joker
Willie Joe - The Mystery Trio
Duck Calling Boogie - Gene Price
Chicken Walk - Hasil Adkins
Boss - The Rumblers
Chicken Shack - Ike and Tina Turner
Chicken Grabber - The Nite Hawks
Comin' Home, Baby - The Delmonas
Peter Gunn Twist - The Jesters
Sweetie Pie - Eddie Cochran
Elle est terrible - Johnny Halliday
Salamander - Mamie Van Doren
I Love the Life I Live - Esquerita
Tiger - Sparkle Moore
You Done Messed Around and Made a Mean Woman Mad - Julia Bates
Cry-baby - The Honey Sisters
I Stubbed My Toe - Bryan "Legs" Walker
Little Miss Understood - Connie Stevens
Can Your Pussy Do the Dog? The Cramps
The Girl Can't Help It - Little Richard
Margaya - The Fender Four
Fever - Nancy Sit
I'm a Bad, Bad Girl - Little Esther