Beasts of burden

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| Wednesday, February 23, 2005 11:02 PM CST | () comments

Sean Moeller

These beasts � bedecked in fire-hardened war armor, jagged spikes and ghastly masks � are fabled to have traveled the galaxy, rampaging and tainting everything they came across for millions of years.

They caused the extinction of the dinosaurs and created humankind by defiling prehistoric apes before being banished to and entombed in Antarctica. They were later sent back to New York with electric guitars to trumpet the gore and filth that they wholly embody, and the destruction that they cherish.

Gwar, a touring band that appears more like the twisted siblings of a Troma Films troupe, the godfather of all cult bands and the pet favorite of metalhead morons Beavis and Butt-head, is the only reliable resource to get those

hard-to-find, impossible-to-know answers to questions such as: How does a soul taste?

"The quality of a human soul can be different," according to Gwar bellower Oderus Urungus, aka Dave Brockie. "If they've lived in a truly naughty manner, worshipped Gwar and bought all their merchandise, their souls are all the sweeter."

Brockie shifts from a deep, barking bite to a tamer, though perpetually excited one when altering characters. The persona of Oderus � a gruesome, meat-faced marauder � is testosterone-charged, aggressive and frenzied by pain. He, like the rest of his bandmates � Flattus Maximus, Jizmak Da Gusha, Beefcake the Mighty and Balsac The Jaws of Death � revel in their theatrics. It's a living performance that Brockie and the rest have the privilege of acting out on stage, on record and in the radio studio, sometimes to the displeasure of deejays.

"I just don't care what they want," Brockie said of disc jockeys preferring the appearance of the man, not the character, in the studio. "Basically they're the same person. I delight in sticking to the character as much as I can. I go in there telling them how I'm from outer space, how I eat nipples and bathe in crack juice.

"We get to (mess) with people. They expect us to be like that all the time. We get away with murder. We just take off the costumes and stick them in a box at the end of the night. We don't have to play that rock star (crap). The only time we pretend is when we're on stage. "

This fall will mark the 20th anniversary of the first Gwar live show, an improbable feat considering they have no songs suitable for the airwaves and an unfavorably crass political incorrectness. It was never supposed to last this long, but the band's lingered, earning the unlikely respect of Ice-T and posses at a Los Angeles performance years ago and being immortalized in a scene in the motion picture "Empire Records."

They're marking the band's two decades of chaos with what they're calling the "Tertiary Tornado Tour," hitting second-tier cities and markets. Just as their run of major cities did in the fall, nearly all of the dates on the current tour � through small bumps on the map like Sparks, Nev., and Johnson City, N.Y. � have sold out.

"We have been greeted with a hearty pants-down everywhere we've gone. Gwar remains mighty," Brockie said. "We had to spread the disease of Gwar to every hamlet and toolshed in America."

And to think this spectacle began as an overblown form of self-amusement.

"The first few years of Gwar were definitely a joke. We were just going to do this funny show in our hometown," Brockie said. "We knew it was real when we received our first wad of money. We'd played a show and I walked down to the promoter's office to collect our money. On his desk are just stacks and stacks of $20 bills and next to them was a loaded gun. We walked out of there with a $3,000 bonus. That combination of money and guns put things in perspective.

"Gwar fans are so diverse. The best, brightest and coolest people are Gwar fans."

For all the talk of war and slaughterings, a closer listen reveals the farcical nature that Brockie takes with everything he writes, spinning horrific details into dark comedy.

"Everyone's perception of us is different. One thing that will always be the same is, whether it's a positive or negative reaction, it will always be a strong reaction," Brockie said. "If we weren't getting that anti-reaction from some people, I'd be disappointed. It is a satirical, black comedy. If you take it too seriously, you really run the risk of looking like an idiot yourself."

The current state of the world, Brockie insists, is no better than the graphic lyrics of blood and innards contained on albums like "Scumdogs of the Universe," "Violence Has Arrived" and the group's latest "War Party." War has long been an inspirational tool for Brockie, who sarcastically suggests the triumphant return of the atomic bomb and compares the war on terror to the feeble attempt that America's war on drugs was in the 80s.

"We're trying to remold society. We're not here for some toothless minstrel show," Brockie said. "We don't have to accept the cavalcade of hideous images that we see every day on TV.

"To foist war upon us is not acceptable. I want to attack war for what it is. For it's horror. If they can sell war that well...what if there was no such thing as war? How cool would it be to live here on Earth?"

Sean Moeller can be contacted at (563) 383-2288 or at smoeller@qctimes.com.