When a hodgepodge group of art students and dancers came together at Virginia Commonwealth University in 1986 to work on a marketing project, one could scarcely imagine what the end result would be. Fusing theatrics with outlandish satire and a penchant for writing catchy heavy metal riffs, GWAR have become a true phenomenon in music and media over the past two decades, blazing a trail that is literally littered with slimy, mangled, gooey body parts. The body parts are of course fake--constructed originally of paper maché and now of molded plastic--but the impact is nothing if not devastating and oddly addicting, cultivating denizens of rabidly loyal fans. As Jared Hendrickson, frontman for the band Chemlab, put it after his band toured as a supporting act for GWAR, the band's fans are, at best "tolerating... [we had] the best response an opening band has gotten... Some nights we would just come off stage covered in spit."

According to their self-scripted legend, the members of GWAR came to Earth millions of years ago, exiled from an intergalactic band of space trash known as the Scumdogs of the Universe. After pillaging the planet, killing off the dinosaurs and inadvertently fathering the human race, the gaggle of mutants wound up in Antarctica where they were to remain sequestered until the late 1980s, when they were "discovered" by a pimp from New York. The core members of the group--Oderus Urungus (born David Brockie), Balsac the Jaws of Death (Michael Derks), Flattus Maximus (Peter Lee), Beefcake the Mighty (Michael Bishop), and Jizmak the Gusher (Brad Roberts)--outfitted with guitars and amplifiers, released their debut album Hello in 1988, followed up by the one-two punch of Scumdogs of the Universe and America Must Be Destroyed in 1990 and 1991, respectively. Released on the Metal Blade label, both albums were well received critically and served to both supercharge the band's burgeoning fan base and increase their visibility nationally.

The fact that GWAR's albums are well orchestrated and well played sometimes goes unnoticed in the shadows of their outré and affected stage show which, based on the sordid comic-book style GWAR mythos, is less like Metallica and more like an Off Broadway (way off) production of Conan the Barbarian meets The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with Chris Rock's sense of humor filtered through a suburban Detroit trailer park. Along with their mirthful costumes, GWAR fill their shows with fake pagan rituals, mutilated corpses, fountains of fake body fluids (which are of course washable and completely harmless) and an array of extraneous cast members both human and mechanical, including a giant automated maggot. The end result is a complete production, so involved that there are always at least 15 people working behind the scenes.

Whereas cheap slasher films and lewd standup comedy littered with the F-word have become standard fare in a desensitized America, GWAR's repertoire continually comes under fire as being foul and tasteless, despite a sarcastic tone that is obvious to all but the thickest of right-wingers. As vocalist Oderus Urungus explained in issue two of Killjoy Circus, "if you see GWAR and you think we're actually advocating murder, rape, and crack use, then you're out of your fucking mind. I mean it's obviously a parody about these attitudes, and to blame the artists for the ills of society is just a way of displacing blame."

The common sense which most adults take for granted is often eschewed, however, and the band has found themselves on the short end of the legal stick a number of times, including a vague "obscenity" charge handed down to Oderus Urungus by the city of Charlotte, North Carolina, which was supplemented by a year-long ban on GWAR performances in the city. There was also the highly publicized incident in which police in Athens, Georgia shut down a concert, only to turn around and be forced to settle out of court with an ACLU-backed GWAR for a respectable sum, which GWAR then donated to charity.

Along with their extensive and controversial theatrical tours, members of GWAR have also appeared on the silver screen as well, including the syndicated white trash phenomenon, the Jerry Spring Show, twice. After appearing with the rest of the band on an initial airing, Slymenstra Hymen, a longtime female auxiliary member of the performance group who also performs on GWAR albums, was lured back on the program under the guise of a "Women in Rock" episode. When she arrived, however, Slymenstra was confronted by a high-strung group of angry prostitutes and strippers; in trademark Springer fashion, the production ultimately deteriorated into a brawl. Although it has been documented that Slymenstra was defending herself against another guest, she was given the vilification treatment that has become standard on inflammatory talk shows and, by use of creative cutting in the editing room, was made out to be the aggressor. "Fuck him, I hate his show anyway," Slymenstra remarked when recounting the Springer incident for an interview in the UK magazine Stormbringer. "It's rotting the minds of America, it's just gross TV. It's an insult to this country's intelligence."

Regardless of what you may think of the band's recorded music (which is essentially the score to their sordid performances), GWAR are the true embodiment of an artistic troupe forging their own path and defying conventions. In truth, if it weren't for the graphic subject matter the group would likely be even larger than they already are, along the lines of a modern post-metal musical revue for the alienated rap-rock generation, a Spinal Tap-ian spin on the Ice Capades. As things are now, GWAR is a formidable force of art by any standard, even receiving a Grammy nomination for the long-form video Phallus in Wonderland in 1993, the same year they were shut down in Athens.

Years later, GWAR is still at it, currently barreling through a national tour dubbed BLOOD DRIVE. When I caught up with them at a recent tour stop, Jizmak the Gusher wasn't with them. Although I was initially disappointed at seeing their show scaled down for a smaller stage, my depression evaporated when the group began performing. The band rolled out one thunderous tune after another, unfurling heavy metal cuts with actual musical appeal, something along the lines of the Melvins let loose in Jim Henson's imagination. Each song seemed to start out blistering hot, then step down to become sordid background music for scenes of the disembowelment of George W. Bush, the Pope, and a whore named Bloody Mary. You can imagine the carnage.

While it is certainly graphic (one of the crescendos being Oderus Urungus blowing a green, jet-like blast of ejaculate before the final song), the GWAR theater is completely harmless. Tasteless, maybe, but still completely benign. Granted, most kindergarten teachers wouldn't necessarily plan a field trip around their next tour performance, but neither would they enlighten children as to the origins of a Happy Meal. GWAR productions are completely humane, and the antics are so overblown and comical that it is difficult to imagine a sane adult taking real offense. At their worst the group are a Jerry Springerian style production of the last 20 years. At best they are the cutting edge of abrasive humor, and a damn good rock show to boot.