In case you were wondering if GWAR's subtle, eloquent charm died with singer Oderus Urungus last year, the answer is a resounding no. Blothar (real name, Michael Bishop), one of two singers the gore-metal legends tapped to replace Oderus, concludes our conversation with all of the tact and class one would expect from the newest member of a band that's made a career out of spraying fake blood and semen on its audience: "And fuck you too, human!"
Blothar may not hold it together quite like his predecessor — talking to the Scene via phone, there are moments when he stops and laughs at the insane shit coming out of his mouth — but he's new here, and the simple fact that GWAR can survive such a momentous loss is cause for celebration. The galaxy's greatest metal band is back from the beyond, and just as awesomely irreverent as ever.
But let's bring it back to the start of conversation.
"I'm miserable," Blothar tells the Scene. "I woke up on the wrong side of the crypt. What's been happening to me all night is that I am sucked onto stage through a time portal at exactly the same time that Oderus seems to have disappeared in time. It is complicated, perhaps too complicated, human, but that's the theme of the show."
His voice drops a couple of steps, taking the gravelly tone from macho bravado to super-villain over the course of a couple syllables.
"Every night myself and Vulvatron are sucked onto stage through an intergalactic time portal. We help [GWAR] look for Oderus, and inevitably it is like an episode of Gilligan's Island. No one gets what they want. No, actually, they get what they want least of all."
It's tough to believe that GWAR fans — bohabs, we call ourselves — wanted the band to reunite "least of all," but there was some speculation over whether or not continuing without Oderus was a good idea. Oderus — real name Dave Brockie, who died in March from an accidental heroin overdose — was not just the band's singer, but the heart and soul of an outfit that had evolved from foam-rubber oddity to American institution over the course of 30 years.
Oderus was such a strong, strange character in the world of music that it would be impossible for any one person — human or otherwise — to fill his oversized, iconic platform dinosaur boots, which is why Blothar isn't alone at center stage. Joining him is Vulvatron, GWAR's first female singer and (fingers-crossed) future feminist icon. It is a powerful pairing — look no further than the band's surprisingly touching recent adaptation of Jim Carroll's "People Who Died" for proof — and the only way to properly fill Oderus' massive boots.
"Actually, he didn't wear shoes — those were his actual horrible, knobble-y feet, yeah," Blothar recalls. "But if I did fill his shoes — the reason he doesn't wear shoes is because back when we were in intergalactic high school, we used to fill his shoes with shit and ever since then he never wore shoes again.
"The truth of the matter is that I don't feel like I'm filling in for Oderus in any way," Blothar goes on. "GWAR is turning a page as it was bound to do and will survive as it already has. And it will continue on in whatever form it takes. It is a privilege to sing words that Oderus claimed to have written. In truth, I wrote all of GWAR's songs years and years ago, telepathically."
That, for those that are keeping score at home, is a nod to Blothar's time playing the role of GWAR bassist Beefcake the Almighty in the late '80s and early '90s — the band's days of Grammy nominations and appearances on The Joan Rivers Show. It's the sort of Easter egg that brings a sense of continuity to this shift in personnel — a Stan Lee-style editor's note in this epic comic-book-like heavy metal career. It's part of a mutant-charm campaign that's taken the Internet by storm; a full-scale freak show tasked with reminding the world that GWAR isn't going back to its home planet anytime soon.
The bohab masses continue mourning the loss of Oderus (this writer cried like a baby watching video of the late singer's Viking funeral at this summer's GWAR-B-Q, which takes place in the band's other home planet, Virginia), but there is blood-and-cum-covered comfort abounding in this newest configuration. Like some maggot-infested Menudo, GWAR continues unscathed by the march of time or the icy cold grip of death on their foam-rubber suits. It's a fitting tribute to the bizarre vision and tragic end of Oderus Urungus.
"Believe me, I derive no pleasure from putting on the armor, hauling my old, crippled ass onstage every night to be sprayed with cum and blood," Blothar says, briefly laughing and breaking character. "But mostly, this is an opportunity for the fans to pay tribute and for GWAR to pay tribute to the greatest rock 'n' roll singer of all time, Oderus Urungus."
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