When I dialed lusty glam rapper Mickey Avalon's coveted digits, I assumed I'd catch him in the throes of a coke-fueled orgy with platinum blonde Malibu junkies, and hoarsely be asked to call back later. Instead, he was in the car on the way home from Starbucks. Drinking a Frappucinno. With his long-term girlfriend. And for a man whose seductive diction onstage drops panties in crowds like a slutty version of The Wave, his speaking voice was more a pleasant nasal coo than raunchy pillow talk. I rolled with it, and found that the hustler kamikaze who normally makes me want to tear my clothes off, guzzle Patrón, and bump lines off of hookers' abs, is more of a loving father than a pimp daddy, who's never been sodomized by anyone but Universal Records. Avalon is in town tomorrow to play the "Blazed and Confused" tour with Snoop Dogg, Slightly Stoopid, and Stephen Marley at the Memorial Coliseum. I wonder how they came up with that name...
WW: Oh great, okay.
Excellent. What'd you guys get a Starbucks?
Who's your lady?
Where are you right now?
You're from Hollywood originally, right?
I hear that you were a prostitute while you were in Portland.
What did you do?
What year was that?
Would you say that you've changed since then?
Like 5 more minutes, is that cool?
How often do you go to therapy?
You've said that you consider your music to be like a modern version of Bob Dylan's storytelling. Could you elaborate on that?
Who would you say your biggest influences are? Would you count Bob Dylan as one of them?
And I think you do.
So if you've already rapped about your past experience as a prostitute and addict on your first album, what are your plans for your next album?
One last question: What's with the “Thank You” tattoo on your lower stomach?
Just minding your manners.
Photo courtesy of Mickey Avalon