G.G. Allin strode out on stage from behind Dino the Naked Drummer with a look of hateful disgust contorting his face. G.G. was wearing a pair of unlaced combat boots that kept tripping him up (it didn’t help that G.G. appeared to be severely drunk or drunk and high perhaps.). G.G. was sporting his token jock strap with “EAT ME” written in black sharpie on the front. Lastly G.G. had on a tattered tan trench coat that had been tagged by a black Sharpie which was used to scrawl “G.G. Allin & The Murder Junkies” down the back. G.G. made his way to the front of the small stage which in reality was more of s slightly elevated platform, and paced back and forth like a enraged tiger that had gone insane from captivity. G.G. grabbed the microphone from the stand like it owed him money and started singing ,but it was more or less yelling his lyrics at the top of his voice making the words hard to decipher at times. The 40-50 person crowd that had piled in behind us at the very last minute became electrified with a combination of fear and absolute awe. I then remembered what Unk had said about the safest place at the show being behind G.G. and thinking whatever happens we’re proper fucked. Due to the crowd forming behind us now Mike, Chuck and I had effectively moved forward into the front of the audience putting us on the front lines. By the time G.G. and The Murder Junkies ended the first song “Bite It You Scum” I was hooked, I had to see for myself what all of the hype was about first fucking hand.
To say G.G.’s reputation proceeded him would be the understatement of the millennium BUT thats another story all together so I digress for now anyway.
After the song ended G.G. tore off the duster like a wounded animal and addressed the crowd. “Did you miss me?!” asked G.G. like a demented drill sergeant “Yeah the fucking pigs, the goddamn pig judge those motherfuckers locked me up, they tried to break me, but they didn’t know shit, I’m fucking unbreakable!!” he continued angrily. By now the crowd had backed up forming the body of the audience into a U formation leaving a wide berth in front of the stage. It was in this vacant space that a couple of young fans in black metal t-shirts and torn jeans were slam dancing. G.G.’s tyrannical rant continued “I’m here and I’m really fucking pissed, you’ll being hearing a lot about me in the next couple of months THATS for sure!! Look into my eyes and hate me!” as the band started banging out the G.G. fan favorite “Look Into My Eyes and Hate Me”
I was in shock, frozen like the preverbal deer in the head lights with my eyes wide open fixated on G.G. ,and remembered a quote I had heard that said G.G. Allin was his own one man version of a freak show. How true those words rang now deafening in my head. It was then that some drunk kid with a shaved head did something to piss G.G. off who responded by bounding off stage onto the show floor. G.G. damn near ran at the guy who didn’t see G.G. coming because he was aimlessly spinning in a circle, and once G.G. reached the kid he hauled off and punched in the kid in the face. The startled kid swung wildly in self defense as G.G. continued to punish this kids discrepancy with his fists. After a minute or so a couple of other fans stepped in and dismantled the mayhem as one fan grabbed G.G. around the waist, swung him a 180 degrees, and then shoved him words the stage. G.G. jumped back on stage and picked up the microphone which he had dropped before getting into the fight with the shaved head kid. G.G. picked up right where he left off ending “Look Into My Eyes and Hate Me” flawlessly. Little did I know that the chaos I had witnessed was just the beginning as this engine of insanity was just warming up.
The next 15 minutes of the concert I can sum up by song:
“Die When You Die”- during this popular G.G. anthem G.G. poured a pitcher of cheap beer over his head, slammed the microphone repeatedly into his head until he bled, and left the stage this time to writhe on the filthy cement floor flopping around like a fish out of water that was set on fire.
“Legalize Murder”- during this particular song G.G. played with himself several times, ran out into the audience crashing into fans like a drugged out bumper car. G.G. then returned to the stage where for the rest of the song he cut his chest with a crumpled up beer can while flailing around like a man possessed by demons during a Meth binge. At the end of the song G.G. took a few minutes to ask where the sluts and whores were at as he quickly drained a pint of Jack Daniel’s, and asked the audeince who of them likes to drink,fight and fuck before finally playing the next song in the set.
“I Wanna Fuck Myself”- G.G. look a leak in the corner, played with himself repeatedly, had another fist fight this time with the beer junkie over G.G. helping himself to a couple of beers with no intention what so ever of paying. G.G. slammed his head violently against a pipe that lined the east wall of the venue a couple of times, and G.G. throwing garbage cans into/at the audience all the while bleeding like a stuck pig his face a veritable crimson mask.
“Shoot, Knife, Strangle, Beat and Crucify” was the next song during which G.G. ditched his jock strap and ran completely naked through the crowd and around the perimeters of the basement the show was being housed in. G.G. stopped singing intermittently during his manic antics some times never finishing the song as The Murder Junkies played on not missing a beat.
“Gypsy Motherfucker” was highlighted by G.G. throwing the mic stand into the audience, shoving a female fan to the floor, a Microphone malfunction, and more of G.G.’s ranting this time over the microphone’s failure.
“What kind of dive bar piece of shit is this? Bunch of goddamn bullshit, can’t get a decent cocksucking mic, who do I have to kill to get decent gear really? Cuz I’m about to find that fucker and murder them!” G.G. asked aggressively to no one in particular.
This served only to incite the crowd into further rowdiness as fans yelled out their support for G.G. with a growing angst and enthusiasm. G.G. got off stage for the umpteenth time to wander around the concert venue pounding beers along with cocktails he grabbed out of the fans hands as the microphone issue wasn’t being addressed. The Murder Junkies stood around loitering on the stage in some state of confusion as G.G. handled his complaint. Finally some rail thin greasy looking stage tech scrounged up a back up microphone from the bowels of the bar. G.G. snatched it from him immediately and plugged it in as if he was trying to murder the mic by stabbing it with the cord.
“Alright now we’re talking, what the fuck was that bullshit fucking unprofessional assholes” G.G. announced mumbling to the crowd as they became yet more frantic by the minute. You could feel the energy escalating, higher and higher as the adrenaline was flowing freely kicking in the intensity of the fight or flight principle. Tensions were so strained that at any moment it seemed the room could erupt in a full on, full blown riot of biblical proportions.
“Now we’re going to play is what the fuck I am a Son Of Evil!” G.G. snarled in a low growl of sorts. 15 seconds into the song the lights went out. Mike, Chuck and I were now standing side by side in total blackness, not darkness mind you I’m talking black like the finality of death itself. The only lights as I’ve mentioned were the stage lights which now had become enveloped along with everything else in the pitch black of the bar’s basement. The stunned crowd started chattering like a swarm of locusts as people tried to deduce what had happened or what had possible just happened to cause the black out and so suddenly at that. Several minutes passed as the questioning crowd grew more irritated than fearful over the total lack of light. The sounds of frustration started to ring out, the breaking of glass beer bottles, the loud and violent yelling ( “Lets fuck shit up!” “Fuck this shit!” “Burn this shithole down” “Fuck this I paid 5 bucks for a fucking ticket and I get this bullshit! “Hell fucking no!” are a few examples of what I heard.) and other various sounds of impending destruction all around us.
As the crowd wound itself up to a fevered pitch I had a reoccurring thought.
“If anything happens we’re proper fucked.”