W.A.S.P.
Biography
Why am I here?That question of describing the compelling fascination of hearing a new W.A.S.P. album likewise serves to define the magnitude of contemplative passion, as narrated by The Neon God. The first of a two-part conceptual album, Part I—The Rise begins to distinguish what will possibly be regarded as the most ambitious work of a prolific career that has distanced an abundance of varied creative expression.
Controversy ignited by the reactionary firestorm of "Animal (Fuck Like A Beast)" prompted Capitol Records to preclude the track from the debut W.A.S.P. album twenty years ago. But the notorious success of that song as an independent single, paired with a visually extreme stage show, would constrictively define the band for its first several years, until the witch hunt of moralist congressional hearings—ultimately masking distinct political ambition—provoked an affirmation of stylistic diversity. That impact was demonstrative as a more conscious lyrical commentary, driven by the intensity of a harder musical edge, resulting in the release of The Headless Children in 1989.
With the curtain of a career defined until then by the salaciousness of songs like 'Wild Child' and 'L.O.V.E. Machine' pulled back to reveal a greater depth of substantively emotive music, the gamut of The Crimson Idol delineated Biblical arcanum and Shakespearean pageantry to celebrated effect. The introspective aspect of Still Not Black Enough led to the raging anger of Kill Fuck Die, the uneasy allegorical performances of that subsequent tour meant to incite debate over the impending cycle of a Presidential electoral campaign.
The release of Helldorado in 1999 marked a return to the rambunctious spirit of recklessness that categorized the first albums, a suitable respite to antedate the seriousness of the following album. Unholy Terror constituted a topical assessment of misguided supremacy, with certain songs like the title track and 'Charisma' proving to be subtly precursory of the themes of The Neon God.
"My intention was to try to create something for the ages," says vocalist Blackie Lawless about the ponderous undertaking that was already being formulated during the creative process of the Dying For The World album two years earlier. "I wanted something that, twenty years from now, people could still get into."
Transcending the enormous shadow of The Crimson Idol, regarded by many as the consummate example of a conceptual album, proved to be considerably challenging to the frontman. "From a story point of view, there's no comparison," he says, alluding to the inevitable comparisons that will initially be drawn between the two separate projects. "This is War And Peace, versus somebody just reading the preface of the first page," is his sweeping metaphor for the complexity of ideas wrapped within The Neon God.
W.A.S.P.: A BIOGRAPHY
From a musical aspect, the eleventh W.A.S.P. studio album stands equally as intense as that of predecessory releases, distinctively interesting as a result of a more divergent use of the subtle elements of his own formative inspiration. 'Red Room Of The Rising Sun,' in particular, is a song eagerly described as "a wonderful opportunity to do something that I would never otherwise be able to do—go back and musically visit Haight-Ashbury."
The necessity of freedom to allow one's own imagination to visualize different aspects of the story was something about which Blackie was completely conscious. "I was careful not to give it geography," says the New York native, resulting in an individual interpretation to present a greater impact that words and music alone could achieve.
Other songs display different examples of intensity, such as the emotive wail of 'What I’ll Never Find,' something the songwriter admits "tore me up when I wrote it." Comparatively, tracks like 'Asylum #9' resonate with an expected forcefulness that is categorically W.A.S.P. "The song kicks ass," Blackie laughs. But the anguish of 'The Raging Storm' was the song admittedly hardest to write of the fourteen tracks. "I went to the studio and spent twelve hours a day by myself," he says, explaining a painstaking process of "just crafting one line, then stopping and looking at it."
Lyrically written on multiple levels as representative of both individual perspective and societal collectivism, the symbolism of 'The Neon God' is immense, with conflict between narcissism and conscience being a fundamental statement.
"What does it take to create a monster?" Blackie asks rhetorically, the resolution of that question being a large focus of the first disc of The Neon God, with regard to a namesake character derivative of the same perverse charisma as that of David Koresh or Jim Jones. "Where does somebody have to get tweaked and how often to turn them into something that can potentially be this?" That psychological elaboration fuels a character to dangerous proportion within his own mind. "What takes this character further than other cult leaders," he explains, is the messianism that "he actually believes, at times."
"In my mind," he continues, "I saw something very similar to the Manson family, or what Hitler had done with the Brown Shirts," he allows, describing those situations of charismatic power inadvertently developed to a far greater degree than any initial intention.
Meant to be indicative of the commonality of the human psyche that questions its own necessity of purpose, the instigational intent of The Neon God is a challenge of introspection within an ambiance of the societal conception of its own false messiahs. Opening one's mind reveals The Neon God to be the story of a focal character as a euphemism for individual humanity.
Do you believe?
Source: W.A.S.P. Press Office (September 2004) read less
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