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Kim Fowley: The Story Of A Rock'N'Roll Monster

In 2005, Classic Rock met Kim Fowley, the singer, songwriter, producer, party animal, svengali and self-styled "piece of shit"...

There is nothing that could be said about Kim Fowley, good or bad, that he hasn’t already said about himself. In one breath he declares, “Look at who I am. I’m an uneducated, untalented, bad-social-skills, horrible-intimacy- skills, unattractive, horrifying, dark, cadaverous, too-tall presence.” The next he states, “I‘m much more interesting than I have any right to be or you deserve to ever know about. I’m probably one of the last humans that reeks of immortality and magnificence.”

Legendary for his brash manner and scurrilous tales, anything ever written about the man should be prefaced by the opening line from Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five: ‘All this happened, more or less'. Even his good friend celebrated Los Angeles DJ Rodney Bingenheimer warns, “You can’t believe anything he says.”

At 65, Fowley has lost none of his bite. “Being a nice person in print is kind of like listening to a Karen Carpenter record: it’s nice if your grandmother’s there, but maybe it’s not something you want to wank to or have a smoke to.”


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