There are a few guarantees in life: death, taxes, and that a GWAR show will leave you soaked in fluids you really hope wash out of white cotton. Recently, at the Roseland in Portland, a sold-out crowd of gleeful delinquents and deviants—many dressed enthusiastically in white—showed up ready to be baptized in chaos. They got exactly what they came for.
Opening the night was Australia’s King Parrot, and if you’ve never seen them live, imagine a detonation of grind, thrash, and pure feral energy. Frontman Matty Young, who was an absolute delight in our interview last month, transforms on stage into something closer to a horror villain, a Hyde to his own Jekyll. Shirt off, neck muscles bulging, middle finger extended, he stalked the stage with unhinged charisma.
The band ripped through a tight nine-song set, including “It’s a Rort” — a bit of Australian slang I had to look up but now fully endorse. The track also boasts my favorite lyric of the night: “When the going gets tough you can go and get fucked.” Poetry, really.
Next up was Soulfly, led by metal lifer Max Cavalera, whose legacy stretches back to Sepultura and runs straight through decades of Ozzfest-era dominance. Soulfly’s set felt like a band fully aware of its lineage, but not doing the same shit they have for years. With nearly 30 years of material to draw from, they struck a balance between past and present—kicking things off with 1998’s “No Hope = No Fear” while leaning heavily into newer tracks from last year’s Chama. Cavalera still commands the stage with the same gritty authority, and the setlist nodded to deep cuts and crossover moments alike, including a run through “Headup,” the Deftones track he guested on back in ’97. They closed, fittingly, with “Eye for an Eye,” a reminder that some songs never lose their punch.
And then there’s motherfucking GWAR.
I’ve been covering GWAR for 20 of their 40 years as a band, and somehow, improbably, they keep getting better. Members have come and gone—sometimes for the usual reasons (family, free time), sometimes… not — but the machine endures. This current iteration doesn’t just hold the line; it fully crosses it.
From the opening blast of “Fuck This Place,” GWAR wasted no time reminding everyone why they remain the undisputed champions of theatrical metal mayhem. The set balanced staples like “Saddam a Go-Go” and “Gor Gor” with newer cuts like “Lot Lizard,” while also throwing in their gloriously unhinged cover of “Pink Pony Club” for good measure. They closed, as they often do, with “Sick of You,” sending the crowd into one last frenzy.
Of course, the music is only half the story. GWAR’s stage show remains a grotesque, hilarious spectacle— equal parts rock, performance art, political discourse, and splatter film. This time around featured a giant, anatomically improbable ICE agent getting cut in twain and a certain current president being reduced to an ass blood-spewing prop. It’s absurd, it’s offensive, it’s over-the-top—and it’s exactly what GWAR has always done best.
A special shoutout to Grodius Maximus (Tommy Meehan), who continues to prove himself as a standout addition to the band. The musicianship across the board feels both tighter and more chaotic, like they’ve somehow refined the art of sounding completely unhinged without ever losing control.
The crowd? Fully committed. Among the sea of soon-to-be-stained white shirts were two guys in pristine white jumpsuits I affectionately dubbed the “GWAR condoms.” Brave souls. Questionable judgment. Absolutely in it to win it.
All in all, it was another phenomenal night from the most ridiculous spectacle in metal—a band that refuses to die, refuses to behave, and refuses to be anything less than completely unforgettable.