Havin’ Milk ‘N’ Cookies With GG Allin
Who knows what depravity lurks in the mind of the ol’ scumfuc? Actually, no one, but Tim Stegall’s come pretty close to findin’ out.
Eighteen years ago, a deranged hophead named Iggy Stooge (later surnamed Pop) was destroying the whole hippie mystique groovethang by snarlin’ his message of hate and sex to the nihilist garage beat of his backup unit the Stooges. To illustrate these demented ditties, Ig’d roll around on busted beer bottles, taking flyin’ leaps into the third row, whip out his Lil’ Elvis and let it spit in the faces of anyone it chose to take aim at, and other antics intended for family audiences. ‘Course, seein’ as how everyone wuz floatin’ in a cloud of ganja smoke pursuin’ the utopian ideas of peace, luv, ‘n’ terminal mellowness, the cat was roundly hated by all. Twasn’t ’till 1977 that whole throbbin’ Blank Generation realized that Iggy was Daddy and whom edified him to King of Punk status.
Well, this is 1988. Another year for me ‘n’ you, but Iggy’s now forty or thereabouts. The cat don’t wanna be sixty ‘n’ still laceratin’ himself to the strains of, Now I Wanna Be Your Dog, y’ know? Can’t age with dignity that way. So, Iggy’s allowin’ his ol’ pal Ziggy Stardust to show him how to get hit singles and just be a real classy dude. But in the meantime, who’s gonna be Iggy?
In all actuality, G.G. Allin’s been doin’ a much better job of bein’ Iggy the past several years than even Iggy himself has. In fact, G.G. has elevated Iggyism to even more depraved heights (depths?) than anyone since Stiv Bators in his Dead Boys daze. Musically, the Geege is totally keepin’ alive the whole supersonic, rockin’-as-a-mofo Detroit protopunk gestalt of the Stooges and MC5 better than anyone. But, the man’s lyrics are so filthy that, when he sent a batch of his records to RIP! magazine (a Larry Flint publication) for review, they sent them back because his material is too obscene for their readership!
But G.G.’s lyrics are absolutely nothin’ when forced to stand next to his live extravaganzas, which’re unmatched for sheer filth-for-filth’s sake. R.J. Smith’s description of a G.G. gig in New York (Village Voice, October 21, 1987) is typical: G.G. Allin…appeared…wearing only a jockstrap and cowboy boots. He started shouting the moment he came out, after shitting in his hands and wiping it on his chest. Then, he bashed the microphone into his mouth, nose, and eye sockets, a shiny red mask spreading across his face. He stretched his jock aside and pulled hard on his little dick. He broke bottles on the ground and rolled in them…his butt and legs, besides his face, were bleeding. On his back, sometimes doggy style, Allin would shove the microphone into his anus.
Then, he went into the second number…If punk rock is supposed to be chaotic, rebellious, sleazy, self-destructive, trashy, noisy swill, then G.G. Allin is the living, breathing definition of punk rock itself.
This interview with da Geege was conducted via Mr. Zip and was originally to be published in my now defunct ‘zine, Noise Noise Noise. Since this meeting of the minds took place back in March 1987, G.G. was signed to Homestead in the U.S. and New Rose in France. A new studio LP, ‘You Give Love A Bad Name’, is out and features teenage record mogul Gerard Cosloy on guitar and a Chuckie Manson cover tune. The ROIR History-of-G.G., Hated in the Nation, is already out and available at your local dikery, though [it’ll] probably be outstripped by the forthcomin’ two LP, retro that New Rose is issuin’ soon. And the cat’s gonna be in yer town soon as his tourin’ machine goes roarin’ across the nation and even into Europe. So take yer mom and yer lil’ sister along to yer local club when G.G. drops in and sit real close to the stage, See what happens!
Tim Stegall: How long have you been at this?
GG Allin: Longer than anybody else. We started the band in 1978, but we’ve been scumfucking since birth.
Tim: Is GG Allin a punk rocker? If not, how would you describe your music?
GG: GG Allin is skunk piss. Rotting trash rock in the lowest form. No quality. Everything sucks and so do we. But we never want people to fucking like it, anyway. It’s not for your fucking pleasure. It’s for your discomfort.
Tim: What inspired you to do what you do?
GG: The only thing that influenced me was the revenge I wanted to get. I hated everybody. I had no friends. So, I just hung out, stole, beat off, raped and took it to the stage. I wanted to die, but to take it as far as I could to bother everyone. Total destructiveness.
Tim: Describe a typical GG Allin gig.
GG: I don’t fucking live up to anybody but myself. As far as onstage and off, I’m pretty much the same. Offstage, I’m a drunken, drugged-out, self-destructive freak who’s got more scars and scabs on his dick than anyone. Onstage, I’m possessed. Nothing fucking hurts. There is a force of the animal inside that’s going to explode. Everything comes out, including piss, shit, blood, rape, pain, anything can happen. It’s not something I plan, it just fucking happens.
Tim: You make a lot of claims that your music is garbage, but it’s actually pretty good. Do you really work hard on your songs?
GG: No, we don’t fucking think about it. We just fucking do it. The band will play and I’ll just fucking do it. The band will play and I’ll drink a fifth of whiskey and it just fucking comes out of me.
Tim: You trashed a couple of Hank Williams, Jr. songs. Do you listen to much country music?
GG: I like the rowdy stuff. Honkey tonking, beer drinking, scum sucking shit kickers.
Tim: Are the Scumfucs still together?
GG: The Scumfucs are still together, but we got no fucking money. And what we do get does to our habits and sluts. Nobody will fucking book us because we ain’t got no manners and we break everything. We’ve been thrown out of every fucking club we have ever played. The only way we can play is if a new club opens, and then we get thrown out of it. Everybody wants to see us play until we get there and they find out that it’s for fucking real. People do get hurt and we don’t fucking care.
Tim: Tell us about your new record deal with Homestead. Are you gonna record in the studio, or will your trusty ghetto blaster still be employed?
GG: They want me in a studio, but it ain’t gonna change a thing. I’m not selling out, no fucking way. It’ll still be a scum fucking record.
Tim: Whatever happened to your team up with ex-Deadboy Cheetah Chrome? And how did you get Wayne Kramer and Dennis Thompson of MC5 to play on “Gimmie Some Head”?
GG: We just fucking toured with Cheetah and he stayed with us and got fucked up. He spent his band’s money on drugs, so his drummer quit and I fucking took over. Cheetah would jump onstage and do shit with us. I met Wayne through David Peel and at the same time I saw an ad in Rolling Stone with Dennis’ name and number. I called him up and told him we got Wayne and then called Wayne and told him we got Dennis without telling the other. When they both got to NYC, neither one of them knew about it. So it was quite a fucking shock. We all went to Max’s Kansas City and got fucking hammered and then drove around in Wayne’s Caddy. By the time we got to the studio, we were all fucked up. Wayne and I were holding each other up when we were singing. That’s why the chorus is real sloppy.
Tim: Do you know that the Volcano Suns did a cover of “Drink, Fight and Fuck”?
GG: We played with them in Chicago and they pussied out. They wouldn’t play it because they were afraid I was gonna jump up and start singing it. We fucking blasted them. I broke a chair over someone’s head that night. Then we did an enema and blew my shit all over the fuckers.
— Tim Stegall