The time I didn’t see GWAR.

Lee, the author, Darren and Greg- Goofcore masters

As a teen, I was a pretty goofy dude. I loved Lawnmower Deth, Mucky Pup and Scatterbrain and any other band that was, well, GOOFY. I even had my own goofy “goofcore” band, Childish Intent. But the kings of ridiculous, Gwar, really had a hold on me by 1990. I had liked the debut, Hell-o, which I told a friend sounded like a cross between “Naked Raygun and M.O.D.”  but with their second record, Scumdogs of the Universe, I was in love. I bought their live VHS, I had a homemade shirt and an "official" one I bought at Spencer’s Gifts at the mall. Blood, sex, dick jokes, Hilarious.

When it was announced that Gwar would be playing Buffalo during the summer of 1992, I was pretty psyched. Not only that, they were playing the NEW Randall Studios, which, at the time, was my favorite place to go: an old warehouse converted into a “practice space” but was really an illegal venue. I had seen (and played!) so many great shows there from 91-92 that I couldn’t believe I was going to see one of my favorite bands on home turf. I bought a ticket the moment they went on sale; the bar was set high.

The night of the show, I piled into a car with my friend Greg and his girlfriend at the time, Jennifer, and we made the arduous drive to the east side of Buffalo. Her late model sedan (which had broken down a few weeks prior on the way back from another show) sputtered, but my $5 of gas money quenched its thirst and got us to our destination; only to find the show has been moved to another location, the Scrapyard.  

Due to the controversy surrounding Gwar and the high level of exposure the show was getting, Randall got shut down for violating fire code. A crude sign was placed in the alleyway that led to the side entrance let us know we had to sally forth.  We got to the Scrapyard only to find what the other 100 or so people that were standing outside knew; due to the fact that the scrapyard was much smaller than Randall’s, the show was now oversold and the club was beyond capacity, leaving us, who had tickets, out in the literal cold.

I mean really, how cool is this?

We waited for about 45 minutes with the ever diminishing crowd hearing the bouncers repeatedly telling us that we weren’t going to get in, but that our tickets could be refunded the following day. Hunter Jackson, who was the Techno Destructo character with Gwar until about 15 years ago, came around and was standing on the outskirts of the gathered crowd. I recognized him and told him our plight. He said he would put anyone on the list for the Toronto Show coming up the next night. This didn’t work for Greg and I, our own goofcore band was playing that night at the very club we were now stuck outside of.  All was wrong with the world. We decided to cut our losses and left, but our friend Evan refused, Gwar was his favorite band, and I think he was too drunk or high to know what the hell was going on anyway. His tenacity paid off, as right as Gwar’s intro was playing, the bouncer let anyone left outside in, tickets or not. For his dedication, his skin was dyed red with fake blood for the next week.

Something about that night killed Gwar’s magic for me. Maybe it was because none of their follow up records touched the first two or maybe I outgrew grown men in costumes or maybe I just have a hard time crawling back from disappointment; which I think it the underlying theme to a lot of my posts.  But, enough about that; I want to wrap this up with something that made me slowly sift through Gwar's catalog again. In Dec of 2008, Dave Brockie used the lobby of the hotel I was working at to do some press work for the Gwar Canadian tour that was about to start, I found him and Brad (Jizmak) to be cordial and professional. It reminded me of how helpful and friendly Hunter was that night 24 years ago. So many of my childhood and musical heroes have passed away in the time since I’ve turned forty and with the conservative shit show this country is about to see, I think the world could use Brockie’s humor and the goofy middle finger that Gwar is to the world.  

RIP Oderus Urungus, the 18 year old and 42 year old me misses you.