Music » Music Stories


We chat with a lesser-known Danzig, fatwa Rolling Stone and wonder if membership has its privileges

by and

Glenn Danzig is a legend. He's fronted two and a half great bands, he's cranked out at least six albums that are true classics of hardcore and/or metal, and he tried (unsuccessfully, alas) to bring Swedish demons Marduk on tour with him a few years ago. The metal community owes him much, but...talking to legends is boring. Pretty much every interview with Danzig is boring. He takes himself way too seriously, he treats most interviewers with disdain, and he smells like MET-Rx and Bengay -- even over the phone.

Glenn's older brother Gary, however, is a riot. Affable and with no pretensions whatsoever about his place in the world, Gary is good people. And if you call him at home in Lodi, New Jersey, and ask about his li'l brother, you'll get a gold mine of dirt that only an older brother can provide. B-Sides asked him to field a few questions from diehard Danzig fans, and Gary happily obliged.

B-Sides: According to All Music Guide (, Glenn's gonna be 50 in June. Isn't that a little old to still be croonin' "Killer Wolf?"

Gary Danzig: Listen, jerkwad, I'm older'n Glenn by three years, an' I still sing "Killer Wolf" when I'm on the prowl. He can sing whatever the fuck he wants. Most guys in Lodi our age are wearin' sweatsuits and washin' our cars two times a day -- Glenn wears black leather, takes it to the fuckin' people and then takes it to the goddamn bank. I'm troo' wichyoo, asshole. Next question. Asshole.

Does Glenn still own that comic-book company? Isn't that kind of a nerd thing to do?

Ahh, whadda you know? You live in the flyover, you dick. Glenn's comics [Verotik comics, for adults only] are fulla demons, and naked broads and blood and all sorts of freaky shit. They're frickin' awesome! Bill Gates is a nerd with all them computers -- Glenn'd rip off his head and pinch a loaf in his mouth, 'cause that's what you do to nerds! Next question.

Does Glenn think he's Wolverine?

Are you frickin' kiddin' me? Wolverine -- goddamn Wolverine is a fraud! I seen him playin' that Australian fruit on Broadway last year. Glenn's for real! Them's real muscles! Me, I'm built like a sofa with pitstains, but Glenn stays in great shape. I haven't been able to beat him up since we was kids. I owned him for eleven years, and then he kicked my ass. My left ball still hurts when it rains. Next question.

How come Danzig isn't going to Tuba City, Arizona, on this tour?

You little shit. [Hangs up. ] -- Paul Friswold

Critical Fatwa
Bow down to the ghost of Lester Bangs. Kneel to the spirit of Hunter S. Thompson! For today we must deliver a long overdue decree, an excommunication of a holy tablet! Rolling Stone, you have had this coming for a long time. Fatwa!

Did we object to any of your five-star Mick Jagger solo album reviews? We did not. We did not rain down hellfire for the Natalie Imbruglia cover, though we were sorely tempted. We allowed you to use any half-naked, half-talented strumpet you pleased to sell your ever-worsening magazine. We held our tongues as you stumbled from Keith Richards to the Strokes to 50 Cent. In memory of what you used to be, we held silent. But we can remain silent no more. For this month, you have abandoned any pretense of rock & roll fealty: You have included a photo essay about whales!

Whales! The least-rocking animals in the world. The familiars of John Tesh, the soundtrack-makers for Red Zinger binges, whales are for people who listen to pan flutes and say, "Oh, my Goddess!" These people have not a shred of rock in them. And yet, Rolling Stone, in your effort to be all things to all people, you have pretty black-and-white photos of these lumbering Yanni fans of the sea! Have you, at long last, no shame?

We sentence you to the Hell you have already made for yourself: a world of erectile dysfunction and irrelevance! You are old, Rolling Stone. May you feel your age.

It is written. -- The Ayatollah of Rock

Members Only
Finale, the new nightclub that opens next month in Clayton on the Park, is selling memberships for $1,000 a year.

A membership means getting first notification of acts that have been booked and the opportunity to buy up to four tickets before they go on sale to the public. Other benefits include pre- and post-show private receptions with performers and preferential reservations for dinner at the nightclub restaurant before or after the show. [...] Among the other upcoming acts are Tito Puente Jr. and a salute to the late Frank Sinatra, with local vocalist Tom Heitman and [Finale owner Steve] Schankman's orchestra. -- St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 3, 2005

Pop's, a nightclub located in Sauget, Illinois, is also selling memberships for $1,000 a year.

Charlotte Sauget, owner of Pop's, says upcoming performers include the Resin, a tribute to local stone-rockers the Schwag, as well as Four Bits, an all-white girl-band tribute to rapper 50 Cent. Dokter Jzzzvvaygas, a special-school-district tribute to Dr. Zhivegas, is also on the calendar.

A membership means that a bartender from the club will personally come to your house and tell you when new acts have been booked, and then ask you politely if you would like to be beaten senseless with a bag of doorknobs.

In a related note, Clayton on the Park's Schankman reports that the members of Dokter Jzzzvvaygas, recently returned from a world tour and flush with cash, have become charter members of his club. -- Ben Westhoff

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