Lydia Lunch: ‘There won’t be a funeral. You’ll never find my body’
Lydia Lunch – In the world of performance, chaos often reigns supreme. Lydia Lunch, a figure known for her fearless approach to art, recounts one of the most memorable moments of her stage life. It happened during a show when a particularly inebriated audience member dared her to “suck his you-can-imagine-what.” Rather than retreating, Lunch took the challenge head-on, inviting the man to the front of the stage and delivering a decisive blow with a blackjack. The result? A dramatic collapse and a sharp retort: “Now go suck it yourself.” This incident, she says, is a testament to her readiness for confrontation, a trait she carries into every performance.
Alan Vega’s Influence and the Essence of Musical Disruption
When reflecting on the artists who shaped her early years, Lunch singles out Alan Vega of Suicide as a pivotal influence. Her first encounter with his work was in New York, where she was just 16. The raw energy of Vega’s live shows, marked by a seamless shift from the haunting melodies of “Cheree” to the frenetic intensity of “Frankie Teardrop,” left an indelible mark. She describes Vega’s performances as a masterclass in musical schizophrenia, a quality that resonated deeply with her own artistic philosophy. The enigmatic expression on his face, often likened to a “thousand-yard stare,” added to the allure of his sound—a unique blend of anguish and euphoria that defied conventional categorization.
Lunch’s admiration for Vega isn’t limited to his music. She emphasizes the emotional disarray he embodied, a hallmark of his stage presence. “It’s the confusion of feeling that makes it so unforgettable,” she explains. This sentiment is echoed in her current project, where she revisits the songs of Suicide. For her, the act of reinterpreting Vega’s work is more than homage; it’s a dialogue with the past, a way to reclaim and reshape the narratives that inspired her.
Collaborating with Tex Perkins: A Fusion of Styles
Lunch’s latest venture involves sharing the stage with Tex Perkins, the frontman of Beasts of Bourbon and The Cruel Sea. Their connection began long before the recent tour, rooted in her longstanding appreciation for Perkins’ work. During the 1994 Shotgun Wedding tour, where Lunch performed with Rowland S Howard, the band covered “Hard for You,” a track Perkins has since revisited. This collaboration, she notes, is both a nod to shared history and a celebration of rock’s enduring spirit.
Perkins, in her view, embodies the rock aesthetic she’s always championed—unapologetically raunchy, hilariously self-aware, and deeply sensual. “He’s the epitome of everything rock’n’roll should be,” she says. This synergy extends beyond music; the two artists have become unlikely allies in a scene that often values eccentricity over conformity. Their performances together, she claims, are a blend of irreverence and precision, a rare balance that keeps audiences on their toes.
Australia’s Posthumous Tributes: A Cultural Obsession
The phenomenon of naming laneways, parks, or even buildings after deceased musicians has sparked Lunch’s interest. She points to the St Kilda laneway dedicated to Alan Vega and another honoring Spencer P Jones, a fellow Australian artist. “It’s a trend that speaks volumes about our collective memory,” she remarks. While acknowledging the irony that these honorees might not have received the same recognition during their lifetimes, Lunch sees it as a necessary tribute. “Think of Hubert Selby Jr or Henry Miller,” she says. “They were geniuses who lived in obscurity, only to be celebrated after death.”
She dismisses the idea that such honors are merely a form of indulgent nostalgia. “It’s better than having a hamburger named after you,” she jokes. The comparison underscores her belief in the absurdity of modern fame. “People are always hungry for recognition, even if it comes too late.” This trend, she argues, reflects a cultural hunger for legacy, even if it means turning the mundane into the monumental.
Rock’s Controversial Soul: A Defiant Perspective
Lunch is unapologetic about her reputation as a provocateur. When asked about her most controversial pop culture opinion, she delivers a sharp retort: “Well, excu-uuse me! I wish you’d rephrase that, because I don’t find anything I’ve done shocking.” Her defiance is both a personal stance and a critique of pop culture’s obsession with spectacle. “It’s an existential vacuum that sucks everything into it,” she says, “leaving nothing for the individual to think for themselves.”
She laments how the internet has turned personal revelations into a spectacle. “It wants people to air their dirty laundry, as if it’s some kind of sacred ritual,” she scoffs. This critique extends to her own career, where she’s constantly challenged to redefine boundaries. “I’ve built my work on pushing limits,” she says. “But I don’t do it for shock; I do it because it’s the only way to keep the audience engaged.”
From Columnist to Cultural Icon: A Life of Lighthearted Provocation
While Lunch’s stage persona is fierce, her literary side reveals a different facet. She recalls her time as a columnist for the Idler, a British magazine, where she wrote a sex advice column called “Tough Love.” One particularly absurd question stuck with her: “Dear Lydia, I’m making Thanksgiving dinner for friends, and I’m wondering if I could get salmonella if I ejaculated into the turkey.” The question, though silly, encapsulates her knack for blending the mundane with the surreal.
Her current project, performing Suicide’s songs, is a natural extension of this creative spirit. “It’s like a ritual,” she says. “You’re not just playing music; you’re resurrecting a legacy.” Yet, even in this act of remembrance, she maintains her edge. “There won’t be a funeral,” she asserts. “You’ll never find my body. When I’m ready to vanish, I’ll be gone in a flash.” This declaration, framed as a humorous aside, hints at a deeper philosophy: life is fleeting, and art is the only thing that lasts.
Lunch’s vision of her own demise is as unconventional as her art. “I’ll just evaporate somewhere,” she says, “hidden away from all eyes, watching as my body returns to the ether.” This image of a silent, almost ghostly departure contrasts with the dramatic intensity of her live performances. It’s a reminder that her work is not just about provocation but also about transcendence, a belief that art can outlive the physical world and echo through time without a trace of the body it once inhabited.
