I don’t respect G.G. Allin, nor do I hate G.G. Allin. I really don’t want to critique the cultural relevance or irrelevance of G.G. I simply think G.G. is funny because he ate shit and rolled around in it while singing songs about fucking the dog. I think watching footage of him can be pretty funny, too. For instance, when he’s in a flophouse beating his empty head against the wall, repeatedly chanting “I hate you motherfuckers”, or the one where he’s having someonepiss in his mouth for his birthday (Okay, I didn’t have the fortitude to watch the latter). Anyway, as evidence of how far along punk has come, I got this G.G. Allin cover album to review. I’ll get to it, but first, allow me to compare two of America’s seminal musical psychopaths. The first being a rapper from New York who’s name rhymes with ‘lazy’. Well, this self-proclaimed, “best rapper alive” started out selling crack to his own community, then ascended to pop superstardom by simultaneously, boasting and excusing himself for this life choice. In the meantime, he stayed busy as a shrewd business entrepreneur, taking chances like designing the for-profit “Occupy Everything” t-shirts for his clothing line during the Occupy Movement and eventually made him a billionaire. Critique such behavior all you want, but why does hip-hop get such successful psychopaths for role models, while the punks adore a man who ate his own shit and did time for putting cigarettes out on his handcuffed girlfriend? The fact that someone is ignorant or misled enough to put energy into a project like Drink, Fight, Fuck Vol. 4is depressing. For what it’s worth, it’s interesting to hear bands with a lick of talent do these songs, some of them are reinterpreted as legit garage or straight up punk. But why does G.G. get a pass? Why is a fanzine with an anti-racist, pro-women policy making an exception for G.G.? Why I am I making an exception for G.G.? Do we need an archetype of extremity to keep some kind of unspoken punk rock balance? Does his art engender some kind of dialogue? No, really, I’m asking but I just fell into a two-hour G.G. YouTube hole, myself, by way of writing this review. Yep, I just lost two hours of my life watching this rock-stupid, man-child drag women around by their hair, cut himself and throw haymakers and shit at drooling scumfucks while performing talentless hack-punk. Fuck, I said I wasn’t into discussing the cultural relevance of G.G. and now look at me. What you get with Drink, Fight, Fuck Vol. 4 is a bunch of racist, homophobic, and women-hating songs reinterpreted by sympathizers of an alienated, insecure, violent, psychopath. Knock yourself out.
–Craven Rock (Zodiac Killer, zodiackillerrecords.com)