Embalmer by day, rock star by night: How Carla Harvey bridges death and music in L.A.
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Clad in a sleeveless leather top that clings like Saran Wrap, a black belt with silver metal eyelets, and shorts that look two sizes too small, veteran rocker Carla Harvey wriggles, shimmies, headbangs, and bounces around the tiny stage of the Whisky A Go Go in West Hollywood.It’s her second-ever gig with her new group Violent Hour, and backing her are four young, similarly dressed musicians.“You are a rock star, girl!” shouts someone in the audience.“You’re a rock star,” Harvey shoots back in a breathy whisper, sprouting a wide grin.
As Violent Hour launch into the set closer, the Motorhead-meets-Guns-N’-Roses barrage of “Sick Ones,” fans bob their heads to the beat.The song is the fastest, heaviest track on the band’s eclectic self-titled debut EP, which features music styles that soundtracked Harvey’s adolescence, including ’80s metal, hard rock, and alternative.
More than anything, Violent Hour marks a rediscovery of joyful vitality after Harvey’s ugly split with her former metal band, Butcher Babies, which she co-formed and performed in for 14 years.If Harvey’s departure from Butcher Babies marked the death of a dream, Violent Hour has triggered a resurrection that resounds with symbolism from her chosen careers.Having worked with the dead and dying almost as long as she has been in bands, the singer has discovered a strong connection between death and music.
“For me, the two inspire one another,” she says.“Knowing death is on the horizon makes me want to create art and music.
Having those kinds of things to leave behind is the only way you can live on after you’re gone.Thinking of some kid 50 years from now playing something I’ve recorded is kinda magical.”Harvey is as knowledgeable about death sciences as she is about metal.
Over the past decade, she has been an embalmer, funeral director, hospice worker, and end-of-life thera...