by The Spin
Gwar-blood, in case you were wondering, tastes terrible. The Spin knows because we probably gargled a gallon-and-a-half of it on Monday night over at Marathon Music Works. The Spin — who are usually posted up on the back wall, scratching our chins and making snarky comments about our fellow concert goers — were right in the motherfucking pit for Gwar's set, and it fucking ruled. We're going to be scrubbing Gwar-gore from under our fingernails for weeks, and we couldn't be happier. Sure, we may have taken an elbow or two to the wigdome during the set — never, ever get between a lady and her Gwar, might be our lesson for the night — but even a little head trauma isn't enough to dull the warming glow of The Spin's annual pilgrimage to bow before the Scumdogs of the Universe.
We arrived just in time to catch Ghoul, the Oakland, Calif.-based scarecrow-masked horror-thrash outfit, as they were kicking off their set. Yeah, they look like a thrift-store version of The Mentors but ... wait a second, looking like The Mentors is fucking awesome. Throw in some belligerent thrash metal and a giant robot that shoots “pepper spray,” and you've basically got the formula for The Spin's perfect opener. It's gimmicky, but it beats the shit out the singer-songwriter suck-fests we've seen lately. Seriously, people need to stop pretending they don't need a giant robot. All bands are improved by giant robots. But it's helpful if you start by playing music that doesn't suck, such as thrash metal. For real, people, quit with all your Coldplay-on-Quaaludes mumble-core bullshit, get yourselves a giant robot and play some damn thrash already. Like Ghoul, 'cause those dudes are rad.
Next up was Savanah, Ga., psych-metal outfit Kylesa. Based on all the weird lovin' going on in the crowd, we're just going to come out and say it: Kylesa is make-out music for metal kids. There was some serious snoggin' going on in that crowd, like somebody had slipped some Spanish Fly into a case of PBR tall boys and nobody could refrain from getting freaky-deeky. It was beautiful in a mutants-need-love-too sort of way. And the band was great too, delivering the sort of soaring spacey metal that has made them such a divisive force within the metal community. Sadly, though, it seems the band weren't getting put through the P.A. at full volume, which, eh, we understand the principle — gotta let those headliners shine — but we really would have liked to have seen Kylesa at full brutality.
And then it was time for GWAAAAAR!!! Have we mentioned how much we love Gwar? We fucking love Gwar. A lot. And our ninth Gwar show was nothing short of amazing. The band had a new stage design dubbed The Bachelor Pad of Doom, we think –—we took more shots to the head than we took notes — and a new host of props, including a pregnant mutant Snooki. There was blood, there was gore, there was fist-pumping and goat throwing and aliens and blood, and more blood. And then some more blood. But in the most bizarre turn of events, there was the Mercy Lounge's head-bro-hammer-in-charge Drew Mischke throwing down in the motherfucking pit. We never thought we'd see that. From now on he is hearby renamed Drew Pit-schke, because he ran that pit like a boss. See, amazing things happen when you go to a Gwar show. Though waking up the next morning, covered in dried Gwar-blood and answering the door for the evangelicals knocking on our door might have been even better. Those ladies were freaked the fuck out!