So long, RVA!
Dave Brockie is back to continue his story of how GWAR became, well, GWAR. This time he tells us about the band getting ready to record their first album and the introduction of the material that changed everything: latex.
Greetings and welcome to all the faithful fans, friends, and followers that have followed this tormented tale for 30 episodes. It’s often rushed and sometimes skipped, but writing these chronicles has proven to be a modest success thus far, at least as far as that I have not abandoned it out of laziness or frustration.
We’d spent three years coming up with the greatest band in rock-and-roll history and become something of a small town success story in the process. But finally the word was getting out on a national level.
The new GWAR made it’s debut in July of 1986 at Rockitz, and I can’t remember much of it so it must not have sucked too bad. What I do remember was taking the couple hundred bucks we had earned the night before and piling into the Battle Barge for our first real road show. We drove to some crummy bar in Nags Head where they pulled the pool tables together and told us it was a stage.
So we had assembled what I considered to be the finest bunch of musicians that the Richmond punk scene could muster up, and he band was a actually sounding like a band, at least until the point when I opened up my fat mouth.
Dave Brockie is back and better than ever with the latest installment in the exciting and sordid of how GWAR came to be…well…GWAR. This time we hear about how he lured “the perfect musician for the Richmond scene” into the fold. Plus there’s mention of a dragon… oh just read it.
Sleazy and I eyed each other from either side of a rubble-strewn chamber, somewhere deep inside the bowels of the Richmond Dairy. The jig was up; the Alter Natives had left for California to record a record for SST, so I was out a band.
Dave Brockie is back! Sort of. GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death will resume in two weeks. Until then, Dave gives us an account of his most recent tour in Europe, with a little insight and opinion thrown in there for good measure.
When we last left off, we were getting kicked out of the Dairy, our band was bailing on us and Techno had packed off to Detroit, taking the costumes with him. For whatever reason, GWAR seemed destined to be exactly what we had intended it to be: a joke.
Surfer Girl got unreasonably thrashed in the last episode, and I am sorry. I should have spent a lot more time describing the first true love of my life in the glowing terms that she deserved. But nevertheless it’s time for the shortest episode yet of …
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