Aliens. Fake bodies being decapitated (or real bodies, if you ask them.) Costumes unlike anything you’ve seen before. A pair of udders that shoot yellow liquid into the faces of the audience, drenching the white t-shirts of the fans in the front, knowing full well what they were getting themselves into. And of course, a Hilary Clinton body suit ripped apart by the breasts, drenching the crowd in gallons of fake blood.
I’m not making any of this up; all of this really happened. And it will continue to happen when you go to a GWAR show.
All of this occurred within the span of an hour and a half, the typical length of the band’s set. For years I’d heard stories about GWAR. They had almost achieved a legendary status among photographers. Namely, because of the fact that photographers have to put a plastic bag over their equipment to avoid it getting drenched in gallons of liquid that is fired off into the audience.
I’m definitely someone that you could say has a mild case of Attention Deficit Disorder. I’m always thinking, moving around, and focusing on new things instantaneously. My attention might always wander briefly, even if I’m watching one of my favorite bands, just because of the way that my mind is biologically programmed. I think that this is the first time that I’ve ever kept my attention completely focused on a show. I was entertained. I was shocked. I was grossed out. And it’s a show I can’t ever forget.
Even during the most inane moments of the show (when you see it, just remember “Kinder”), the most conservative looking members of the audience were smiling because they couldn’t believe what was going on. They saw a group of people on stage that were genuinely having fun shocking their audience.
As musicians, they’re great fun to watch. GWAR’s music is very much consistent on old school thrash metal, taking it back to the days of Megadeth, old school Metallica, and Exodus (at least, that’s the vibe that I got). Regardless of all of the shit going on around them, they play very well together.
The main support slot belonged to Battlecross, an emerging band with an interesting take on the thrash and death metal genre. Like The Black Dahlia Murder, the band are almost more along the lines of metallic death metal. Their vocals are extreme, but the music has more melody to it, much like metalcore or even thrash would.
When all was said and done, the show wrapped around 11:30. I made my way back to the parking garage, and noticed a group of gentleman, wearing shirts that used to be white, now doused all the way through with bright red and yellow liquid that the band had propelled into the audience. GWAR had done their job. Another successful night for the Scumdogs of the Universe.
This has been another Shameless Promotion.