Gwar came out shooting blood pretty much right away. Okay it wasn’t actual blood, but special Gwar blood, and there was plenty of it. All over. Everywhere. Everything. Everybody. First red blood, coming from various puppet heads and a mutant (and mutilated?) dog puppet. Then there was the green blood that partly spewed out of Oderus Urungus’ space penis. The American band, dressed in their absolutely terrifying outfits, proceeded to put on a show I’m still recovering from. Hey, you watch them in the dark and I think you’re a big baby if you are not afraid. Gwar’s rabid live act is only a small part of their long, nearly 26-year career. That their songs are actually good has to be the real explanation for their success – shock value alone, or theatrics will only get you so far and then people get tired of it. Sunday’s show displayed a super strong Gwar, a Gwar whose performance and songs just got better as the night went on.
What happens to photographers at Gwar – Suzi Pratt – photo by Alex Crick
Dagmar’s Gallery of Gwar @ Showbox SoDo