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The Fall and Rise of Mickey Stardust:
Glam rapper Mickey Avalon knows what it’s like to live and die in L.A.

by Neille Ilel, Izzy Grinspan, November 23, 2006

People like to compare Mickey Avalon to Eminem, and maybe that’s fair: Get rid of Avalon’s Holocaust-haunted family and hand-jobs-for-heroin career track and Eminem’s Detroit trailer-park background, and you wind up with two white guys who both rap about their hard-luck stories. What these people forget, though, is that Eminem would be a total sex god if he weren’t such a homophobe — come on, you saw 8 Mile — and Avalon has no such masculinity issues. And while Eminem has devoted his life to hip-hop, Avalon is more of a hustler, using music as a vehicle to get his life to a better place. Putting his lanky body on display, Avalon rhymes about “sassy little frassies with bulimia” (of which he’s had many), and strung-out male prostitutes on Sunset (of which he was one), single-handedly forging a new genre—call it glam-rap—with every bat of his mascara’d eyelashes. He’s like the product of an unholy union between David Bowie and Run-DMC.

Busting Out: Mickey Avalon goes through the windshield glass

Busting Out: Mickey Avalon goes through the windshield glass

When I sat down with Avalon in late August, I wasn’t expecting him to be an unassuming little slip of a thing, hardly taking up space in the booth at Cantor’s Deli. It’s hard to believe this waif is the same guy who’s been writhing around on top of windshield-blown cars in West Hollywood nightclubs, or that he’s about to become famous. But given his single “Jane Fonda’s” prominent spot in a recent episode of Entourage, his record deal with Interscope, and a much-passed-around LA Weekly profile that’s now been optioned for a biopic, it seems like Avalon is perched on the brink of something big.

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