The punk gig that killed Death Piggy
The American hardcore punk scene of the 1980s prided itself on a seriousness that bordered on rigor mortis.
Each individual scene, from Washington DC to Southern California and everywhere in between and beyond, was made up of the same kind of bands. Great big, serious men writing great big, serious songs about the great big, serious government. Played as hard and as fast as possible in front of a crowd that wasn’t just similar to the bands on stage, because scenes tend to attract like-minded individuals.
They were played in front of crowds similar to the bands on that bill because more often than not, those crowds were made up of the other bands on that bill. Each waiting patiently, or in some cases not so patiently, for their turn to get up there and give big Ronnie what for. Of course, I’m tarring a truly countless number of scenes with the same brush. These were scenes that spread not only across the United States, but also across several different countries around the world.
Which is to say that there were obviously variations on this. Not every band were variations on Black Flag and Minor Threat. Just the vast, vast majority of them. Even the ones who did have a sense of humour tended to go with pitch black, lacerating jokes that were still aimed at the usual political targets of the day. Bands like the Dead Kennedys and The Vandals knew the power of jokes had to get across their political message and stick it to their targets, but it’s still not quite the same, is it?
There was still this aching seriousness at its heart. Everything came back to politics and life-or-death situations. Which is fair enough, it was Ronald Reagan’s America, they needed all the people speaking out against it that they could. However, as we know today, we do also need escapism from all that from time to time. We do need a bit of rampant silliness to take our minds off it all from time to time, and the hardcore band doing just that were a power trio from Richmond, Virginia called Death Piggy.
Who were the punk band Death Piggy?
A name like that could go either way, right? You’re either dealing with an extremely combative, ACAB to the nth degree kind of band or a punk band that is silly to their (hard) core.
Just a cursory glance at their cartoon pig’s head mascot shows exactly what side of the divide Death Piggy lands on, but if you need more proof, you can always take an even more cursory glance at their song titles.
This was the kind of punk band to begin their EP, Death Rules The Fairway, with a song called ‘Welcome to the Record’ and then follow that song up with a track artfully called ‘Boner’. A move that Blink-182 would probably call a little on the nose a decade and a half. That said, they were probably taking notes later in the record when closer ‘Ceramic Butt’ came around.
Formed in 1982, Death Piggy were always going to be too beautiful to last, but the reason they weren’t going to last was very different to other punk bands. In fact, there’s a decent chance you’re well familiar with lead singer and bassist Dave Brockie to this day, but not under that name. A few years after the band formed, Brockie struck up a friendship with Hunter Jackson, a trainee VFX artist with a collection of incredible monster costumes.
Brockie was so taken with these costumes that he asked if the band could wear them at a gig at Washington DC’s 9.30 Club. Rather than during their set as Death Piggy, the band decided to support themselves, playing an earlier set that included them performing a bunch of nonsense songs and sacrificing rubber animals onstage. The band’s name? Gwaaarrrgghhlllgh.
Not a hugely catchy name, is it? Don’t worry, they shortened it to Gwar, and deeply silly hardcore punk history was made.