White Dopes on Punk, pt. 2

The glory days of punk as some new movement were long over by the time of the McDonald's incident. Mohawks and Doc Martens were cliche (though there were still plenty of them around), and even Punk 2.0 bands like Minor Threat were done. Still, D.C. and Baltimore weren't bad places to be in the mid to late 80's music-wise. Ian MacKaye had started Fugazi, Government Issue was putting out some pretty kick-ass records, and there was always a 5 bands/5 bucks show somewhere.

One of these was at WUST Radio Hall (now the home of the 930 Club). The line-up: Descendents, GWAR, MIA, Henry Rollins, and one other I can't recall. Quite the mix. GWAR is a lot more metal than punk, but in those early days of "thrash," there was a lot of crossover both in the music and on the showbills. Henry did not show for some reason, but the show was still memorable, and not just for the performances. WUST was a gospel station, and the wall behind the pretty large stage was adorned with a massive painted mural of black farmers - quite the backdrop for a bunch of loud, obnoxious white bands playing to a few hundred loud, obnoxious, mostly white kids. And I saw two of the funniest things I have ever seen at a show.

First, GWAR. The magnitude of their depravity-based, fake-blood soaked theater is enough to make Alice Cooper look like Alicia Keyes. In a matter of about three minutes, GWAR had burst on stage through paper screens, sprayed the front row with a variety of liquids shot from giant phalluses and fake, headless sheep, whipped through 4 songs, and shot off a couple cannons, which got them promptly kicked off for breaking the fire code. The aftermath took well more than three minutes to clean up, during which time we retired to the horribly shit-stained men's room to shotgun a couple Schaefer tall-boys (ah youth).

I also saw the worst stage-diving mishap ever. It's an unwritten rule that if you're near the stage, you lend a hand, or a head if you take your eyes off the action, to catch stage-divers. Things were proceeding as expected in this regard through most of the show, until one unlucky guy leapt off the stage at precisely the moment about twenty people decided they were not catching anyone. This kid dropped about six feet and hit the concrete. Flat. You could hear it. Of course, those same twenty people immediately rushed in to pick him up. "Aw dude sorry dude you all right!?" He was not all right and had to be carried off the floor.

When you break it down, punk rock really is comedy. The hair, the clothes, the two-chord songs that last one minute and three seconds, the injuries. Some bands may be serious about what they do, but it's always been impossible for me to take in the spectacle of it all and not chuckle. I mean, you don't name your band The Dead Kennedy's because you expect to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Then again, GWAR did get nominated for a Grammy. Twice.