In the late 1980s, as Ronald Reagan's presidency passed into twilight, another force was taking shape in Antarctica, as a group of rubber warlords originally from outer space began to stir from thousands of years in ice-encased deep sleep. When they emerged, the fierce warriors declared their intention to enslave Earth, but chose guitar, drums, and bass instead of traditional weapons. At each ensuing appearance, the group, known as GWAR, ruled their true domain, the concert stage, committing vile and reprehensible acts—decapitations, exploding genitalia—while providing a loud and terrible soundtrack to the mayhem.
The extraterrestrial outfit struck with an initial force that inspired both repulsion and opposition in towns across America. GWAR was frequently monitored by local police everywhere and Oderus Urungus, lead singer and ringleader, even found himself the subject of obscenity charges. (Fortunately, Oderus was able to retain the help of the ACLU and actually won damages in one instance).
After the furious and acclaimed albums, Scumdogs of the Universe and America Must Be Destroyed, Oderus, Slymenestra, Jizmak and the rest of GWAR seemed to suffer an identity crisis. According to David Brockie, the man behind Oderus and one of GWAR's founders, the group's sidestep was partially motivated by the change in the White House.
"When we first started GWAR, we were just coming out of the Reagan era and the Bush thing was going on. We were very vicious and went right after that stuff," Brockie says. "Then Clinton became president, and for a good eight years, our biggest problem was whether he got his dick sucked or not."
The group delved into a Zappa-like cornucopia of musical styles, taking a detour from the two-chord chugging express of previous albums. "We were playing all kinds of styles and genres, and maybe it was because the political situation wasn't so acutely horrible," Brockie explains. "People actually seemed fairly satisfied when Clinton was in office; at least, Democrats and normal people."
Now that the country has returned to the right, GWAR has bared its teeth again. "GWAR's always had a political and social commentary about it, albeit a rather brutal and ridiculous one," the front man candidly says. "It just seemed like now was a really good time to get back up on the GWAR soapbox and preach our venomous attitudes to a world that is quite obviously descending ever deeper into chaos."
GWAR's finest time as social critic came during the first Gulf War. The song "Saddam A Go-Go," for instance, is a pounding barrage of noise, while lyrically evoking violent chaos with its pastiche of non-sequiturs. The song was a hit with American troops overseas and has continued to resonate, though not in the way its authors intended.
"It's disturbing when you get e-mails from soldiers in the Gulf who talk to you about how they play "Saddam A Go-Go" while they're riddling bullets with 30-millimeter explosive rounds," Brockie states. "A lot of them are inspired by GWAR to go into battle which is kind of weird and not really the point."
While U.S. soldiers may miss his lyrical spirit, whatever it is, they clearly get the music's over-the-top aggressiveness that matches the mood of war. Both understand that, under the onstage antics, costumes, and foul language, GWAR is driven by a not-altogether bad level of musicianship. Brockie concurs.
"The guys in my band kick absolute ass!" he says. "Obviously, or the whole idea of GWAR wouldn't have survived very long. If it was just a joke band made up of hack musicians, maybe one or two records and GWAR would have been done."
After more than 15 years as a member, Brockie is deservingly proud of the band's longevity. "GWAR is not about the people that play the characters, it's about the characters," he says. "And it's about the story and the music. And that stuff lives beyond our mortal bodies." The sometime Oderus Urungus has an ambitious vision for the overlords of rock 'n' roll. "I have every intention of populating those rubber suits with genetically engineered replacements," Brockie says, quite seriously. "GWAR could literally, and I mean this, last for hundreds and hundreds of years. It'll be awesome."