W.A.S.P. – Double Live Assassins – Review

W.A.S.P.

Double Live Assassins (CMC)
by Scott Hefflon

I’ve always liked W.A.S.P. (what was that supposed to mean – “We Are Sexual Perverts” or something?). Perhaps “always” is a strong word, but you know what I mean… From their self-titled release (’84) and The Last Command (’85), you can draw a direct link to the over-the-top schlock/shock rock of Mötley Crüe’s Shout at the Devil (’83/’84) to the industrialized darkness (almost Goth, but different due to song content and intention) of the late ’90s. And while the Crüe embraced glam and gutterglam (Theater and Girlsx3, finally getting it “right” with the swaggering rock of Dr. Feelgood, the closest to Too Fast for Love when they actually were starry-eyed L.A. fuckers getting in brawls and screwin’ hot chicks), W.A.S.P. continued with their grisly freakshow and outlandishly dark antics. I personally lost interest after The Last Command, with their increasingly catchy, harmony-packed choruses skating that line Alice Cooper and even Motörhead (only recently) crossed.

From tracks like “Crimson Idol,” the title track of their ’92 album I was lucky enough to miss, I guess vocalist Blackie Lawless went through a darkly ponderous mid-life crisis. And while I’ve always thought him brighter than yer average shaggy-headed, leather-clad dancing monkey, I want to hear his dismal poetry about as much as I want to hear “Home Sweet Home” for three hours straight. Only with K.F.D. (Kill Fuck Die)(’97) did I rediscover what an aggressively hook-laden band they still were. They used the elements of “industrial” that suited them, without sounding like they’d stumbled across a copy of Ministry’s The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste almost a decade late. Still metal to the bone (ouch!), K.F.D. utilized distorted vocals (without overdoing it) and various clankery (ditto) in a way kinda similar to the Crüe’s Tommy Lee’s “Planet Boom,” the song used somewhere in Barb Wire and available (as the only song worth shit) on Quaternary (the five-song EP “for fans only” that came out post-self-titled album and helped the Crüe realize that without Vince Neil, one of the squeakiest Minnie Mouses of metal, the Crüe really sucked).

That said, Double Live Assassins is a double disc (hence the title, genius) spotlighting 16ish songs someone somewhere thought summed up the essence of W.A.S.P.. Recorded during the K.F.D. tour in ’97, at least the songs have original guitarist/giant Chris Holmes staggering around and Blackie twiddling the producer’s knobs. I can’t tell if the bassist is still the fruit from King Kobra (which is more embarrassing, that he was in the band or that I have the album and recognized him immediately?), and you’d think I’d be able to tell from the many, many photos that grace this CD booklet, evidently taking up so much room that there was no space left for insignificant details like what album each song is originally from. One perk of Double Live Assassins is that, while it does include a few, it doesn’t have all the horrid covers W.A.S.P. has done over the years. It does, unfortunately, have The Who’s “The Real Me,” a song I didn’t like as a Who song, hated on W.A.S.P.’s The Headless Children in ’89 (not to be confused with Black Sabbath’s ’89 boner Headless Cross), hated as a video (which was where I first noticed that puffy-headed prettyboy bassist as he pranced around the round stage similar to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” and that Stryper song (the one about God) that were both in heavy rotation on a show called Headbanger’s Ball), and I hate here, live. There is an odd tip of the hat to Maidenesque guitar galloping at the end of “The Headless Children,” but that’s not so much a cover as a mistake. There’s also a cover of “I Don’t Need No Doctor,” but at least there’s no version of Janis’ “Someone to Love” (the vocal styles are similar during the throat-shredding howls when you really think about it… so don’t) or any of the many songs they’ve ruined in the past.

Interesting themes begin to surface when listening to a career-spanning disc like this – while I missed such brooding epics as “The Idol” and have no reference point for “The Crimson Idol Medley” (they do the medley thing a few times and it wreaks havoc when trying to find a particular song), I do recall “thoughtfully dark power ballads” like “The Flame.” And when it comes to rebel anthems like “I Wanna Be Somebody” (sans the fist-pumping sing-a-long/audience-bonding commentary), “Blind in Texas,” “Hellion,” and “Wild Child,” W.A.S.P. were right up there, in my opinion, with the best of ’em. They could write a song you could sing, play on guitar, and really relate to (when you were an awkward, angry teen) without hating it later for being sissified goop. W.A.S.P. was (is?) the metal band for those without the stomach for thrash, speedmetal, death, black, or industrial metal (ya get a hummable chorus and a vocalist who hits more than one note, but you get the aggression and the violent imagery that makes parents worry), but who want something harder than Skid Row (despite claims that they were going to get heavier and heavier until they sounded like Venom – some label exec. musta shown them Venom’s sales figures and threatened to cut their eyeliner and pre-ripped-jeans budget) and, um, that stuff. Anthems such as “Ballcrusher,” “Jack Action,” and “Sex Drive” are omitted (all from The Last Command, but perhaps that says more about me than about them), but all is redeemed in the crunching rock (think Judas Priest guitar chugs and a blues rock progression like Chuck Berry – and don’t even think of bringing up JP’s cover of “Johnny B. Goode” as the closing credits rolled on that celluloid turd) of “Mean Man/Rock’n’Roll to Death.” Evidently an original (oh, like writing this stuff is hard!), the chorus sounds like “Devil Rock” and “Big ol’ Cock,” but they could be screaming “Death or Rock” or something equally heart-warming/inane.
(5226 Greens Dairy Rd Raleigh, NC 27616)