Okay, so I made the mistake the other day of googling Gwar. I’m not sure what made me think of it, really, but once it was there I had to look. Surely they weren’t as bad as you remember them! And the pictures — well, they’re hilarious! Nothing wrong with a self-respecting metal band dressing up like fantasy monsters with… obscene codpieces and drawn-on abs, pracing around on stage, scattering fake body fluids over the audience… right?
Well, then I checked out a video. Not some videos. ONE video.
It was this one. Don’t watch it if you’re easily offended, like me. Or if you’re my wife, or if you’re under the age of 13 without the written consent of your parent or guardian. In triplicate. And please, if you are my significant other, DO NOT WATCH THIS VIDEO.
They are sick bastards. I mean, really, WHY? They’re worse than I remembered. ICK. It’s not realistic at all, but it arouses in me the same visceral nausea (cold palms, cold sweat, descending stomach as my transverse colon contracts in horror) that I felt when I made the mistake of watching the opening sequence from La Terza Madre. This isn’t art, it’s depravity.
I’d like to think that the big, dramatic, glory-drenched flash-mobs would be a perfect antidote…
…but I know too well that at least one of the people sitting at those tables, smiling and nodding as the universe breaks out with a glorious fruit of unexpected order and cooperation, is probably thinking about how best to stage a fake disembowelment at a concert.