GWAR at the Gothic Theatre, 4-17-13 (review)By | April 18th, 2013 | 4 comments
By Erik Myers
The snow had been falling for some time when Wednesday drew to an end, but it did not deter the small group huddled outside the Gothic Theatre. On the marquee above them were red letters set against white light: “GWAR.” When the doors opened, the fans poured in, streaming forward along black gating and into the open pit up front. We sat in the rafters above them, catching their odors as they drifted upward, corn syrup and sweat.
The show began. GWAR walked onto the stage, unencumbered by their huge spiked armor. Their leader was Oderus. His red leathery face hung gaunt and his open eyes were vague and staring as he took in the packed perimeter. The people chanted their name. GWAR began to play and they capitulated to the terrible noise, cheering and clapping. The front pit seethed back and forth, a crushing tide which settled only when any one of the evening’s special guests appeared on stage.
Hitler came first. Oderus carefully wiggled his fingers into the dictator’s upper frame before peeling him open. His brain fell out and bounced around, tethered by engorged stem. Jesus was later rolled out for a second crucifixion which also left him disemboweled and flayed. The holy son returned as Super Cyborg Jesus, but his hulking form fell against Oderus and six-foot sword. President Barack Obama arrived at the encore. He thanked Colorado for his reelection before, smile unmoving, pledging to remove all “whites” from employment. Oderus appeared upon him suddenly, his sword cleanly separating head from neck. For a moment, the headless president stood still. Then blood sprayed from his open wound, a great drizzle which fanned out across the crowd.
How they loved the liquids, the various colors and scents. As Oderus sang some indiscernible anthem, black goo shot from his codpiece into the smiling faces before him. “Thank you Denver,” he said. “Denver always loves to drink my AIDS-infested semen.”
Though untouched by slime, my body throbbed. Fever was setting in. As I joined the throng filing out, there was no ignoring the Ghost B.C. poster along the stairwell. What has GWAR wrought upon the world? Such intense grotesquerie, such awful sounds.
Electronic blogger Erik Myers is a Denver-based writer and new contributor to Reverb. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org or follow him on Twitter.