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Via their recordings, these self-described "scumdogs of the universe" purvey lo-fi punk-thrash matched with equally lowbrow lyrics. Onstage, however, GWAR more effectively combine the sometimes clever, wacky, costumed look and theatrics of a
Green Jello with the base grossness of the
Mentors, lending GWAR tunes a turgid Technicolor life. In fact, clued-in audience members have taken to wearing garbage bags over their clothes to protect themselves from excessive stage spewage. The band's seventh album possesses redeeming factors, however, despite such puerile "songs" as "Baby Raper" and "Penile Drip." Though there are more lowlights than highlights, especially in the lyrics, GWAR actually come through a couple times. The
Rob Zombie-ish ditty "Tune from the Moon" isn't bad, the slide guitar on the slow Southern-country "The Master Has a Butt" is cool, while "Mary Anne" is an almost-love song in a melodic punk vein. The barnyard noises on "F**kin' an Animal" are perversely laugh-out-loud funny-gross, yet there's also the sense of a
Monty Python-like bawdy humor.
We Kill Everything is rife with sicko toilet humor--literally on "Jiggle the Handle"--that is no doubt offensive to many. For good, dirty fun, however, GWAR provide a few--albeit very few--moments of lewd levity.
--Katherine Turman