Penis Envy: GWAR Re-Conquers Boise with Nearly Forty Years of Liquid Experience (Live Report)
“A wrapped-up, big dick is even more disturbing than an unwrapped one,” says Mike Derks, the Gwar guitarist known as Balsac the Jaws of Death, as he fondly recalls adhering to the Boise Police Department’s requirements for performing in the Gem State.
In all fairness to law enforcement, how often do they come face-to-face with a foam, penis-shaped cuttlefish as an accessory to a rock show? For Mr. Derks, er, Mr. Balsac, it’s just another amusing story in a 37-year journey that he considers more performance art than rock’n roll. The band’s triumphant return back to the stage at Boise’s Knitting Factory on November 27th proved that their foam-rubber frenzy still packs a powerful punch. For those wondering about Idaho’s dismal record for preventing the spread of Covid, it was, indeed, a masked event. Virtually all the the fans adhered to the rule, but it hardly slowed down the energy in the pit. After all, Gwar wears masks and it doesn’t inhibit them.
It’s easy to make jokes about the elderly moshers getting fake theater blood in their gray hair, but the full-to-capacity crowd was as multi-generational as it gets. Surely parents who discovered the group in the 80s would want their kids to experience the celebration of power chords and bogus bodily fluids. The good news is that the Knitting Factory’s upstairs bar and balcony provided a safe haven for newcomers and those who preferred to stay dry. Because to call a GWAR show “moist” would be an understatement, so safe spaces were much appreciated. Yet, for die-hard fans, Gwar provides a sacred ritual to get blasted with guts and gore.
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“Our early fans knew we weren’t a ‘band’ really,” says Bob Gorman, a.k.a. Bone Snapper about the group’s on-stage theatrics. Venues traditionally provide amplifiers, mics, and even lighting, but not so much gallons of mystery fluids to spray over the splash zone. “There isn’t a backline for blood.”
Criticisms of this music and live performance art as rudimentary would be missing the point. Bands like Kiss have endured similar accusations from those who would rather discuss odd time signatures on a Tool record for years. They are similar to those who loftily remind viewers that the beaming system from Star Trek is not physically possible. Oh, really? Well, guess what; there’s no such thing as Ninja Turtles either… and wait until you hear about Santa.
One unimpeached master of music who would approve would be none other than Frank Zappa. His introduction to the live version of “Cheapnis” is proof enough. Zappa would understand that Gwar is to be enjoyed for its entertainingly vulgar audacity and unapologetic, tongue-smashed-in-cheek glory.
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Gwar’s tour with Eyehategod and Napalm Death in the United States ends soon, but they’re likely to resurface in 2022, so music lovers and future fans should consider catching a show to avoid the late-in-life regret of missing one of rock’s most important cultural juggernauts. After all, what would life be like without Pee Wee Herman talking to a genie in a mirror? Godzilla without destroying a cardboard Tokyo? Captain Kirk without playing tonsil hockey with various aliens and women? Shrek on Ice!?
Do you want to be on the other side of the question, “What do you mean you’ve never seen GWAR?!”
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Grab a 30th Anniversary copy of Scumddogs on silver vinyl in the shop.
