Gwar, DREGG @ Max Watt’s, Melboune 4/12/2025
“There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs” – George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords.
In bold defiance of the scripted mythology, it is arguable; GWAR are not man, nor alien, beast nor machine, they are an undefinable entity.
Renowned the world over for their infamous anonymity, in mere mortal terms and forms, Virginian born, universally-fabled gore metalists return to Australia for GOOD THINGS FESTIVAL, gracing sideshow stages in advance across the eastern states.
In a stellar example of Murphy’s Law, Melbourne’s own hardcore specialists, DREGG, start proceedings earlier than expected. With little opportunity to arrive otherwise, after an all-day dash across statelines, I Can Remember the Future and it’s simultaneously dark and bright amongst the Chaos Garden of a day spent making it here tonight.
“We have one job, to warm you up for GWAR!” Vocalist, Chris Mackertich exalts his purpose before the fever dream of PCP Wednesdays ushers in a series of hometown crowd choruses of favourites. Max Watts’ flat surfaces vibrating, “the perfect way to end our little tour with GWAR, at home”, repping LV Vest, and ‘disconnected’ geographically perhaps, we live and ‘die in the Internet’ together.
“Everyone in the middle, show me what you’ve got”: our collectively blissful 21st Century Ignorance is on show, as DREGG begs the audience to Subscribe to Kill Your Mind. Hands wave and gladiators fray in the festering mosh pit arena. “Be present in these moments, because they won’t be around forever”, sage advice not designed to Dress Down but lift up; Dog Cunt closes the set list by a collective of the sickest.
Wildly contradictory to the assumption of those unacquainted, the crowd is dominated by a sea of white shirts desperate to soak up (and a conglomerate of photographers ponchoed to avoid) the awaiting bloodbath.
Danielle Stampe, aka Slaymenstra Hymen, titillates the audience, ‘sensing the growing sense of impending doom’ and The Great Circus Train Fire that’s to become of the Filthy Flow. Both a figurative and literal term, The Beserker Blothar & Beefcake the Mighty (assisted aptly by Bonesnapper the Bodyguard) bring and promptly decapitate an Elon Musk effigy on stage.
Off to Metal Metal Land already, domestic terrorists are flayed while Saddam a Go-go sees a Crack in the Egg, a dinosaur baby hatch and Balsac The Jaws of Death saturate the sado-masochistic moshpit. “There’s only one thing that could make us happy” apparently, a promise to Bring Back the Bomb and attestation to hold El Presidente accountable.
Donald Trump is the freshest satirical sacrifice to be strutted and skinned. Demons drinking his aortic spew, GWAR chant Fuck This Place, safe in knowing if their return to America is sabotaged by their treason against the world’s greatest Mother Fucking Liar, Australia is ready to house them.
Proudly labelled Bad Bad Men by a Tyrant King and his most hellish co-conspirators, Melbourne circles and girates, marvelling at how, after such acts of justifiable vengeance, these unexplainably prodigal sons may re-enter their country of origin. Concurrently awestruck, we appreciate the message: America Must Be Destroyed.
In a major act which saw beheadings, abasement, retribution for the present, recreation of the prehistoric, GWAR’s performance is incomprehensible but writes itself; a perfect cacophony, Rock N Roll Never Felt So Good.
Hostile inhabitants waiting for the time we deconstruct the toxic patriarchy and elect a hierarchy befitting of this Pussy Planet, my goodness, GWAR, we’ve experienced you in every sense of the word for so many years now. However, never Sick of You, every next grotesque time exceeds the best.
Just like they “love it here”, Australia loves you too; savage beasts, warmongering beings, Scumdogs of the Universe. GWAR lives motherfuckers!
Live Review By Belinda Quick