TURBONEGRO: princes of the rodeo

Self-described as deathpunk, this Norwegian six-piece has been rocking in excess for over ten years now. Picking up what the Misfits, T.Rex and Van Halen put down, they utilize a basic lo-fi riff-rock aesthetic, throw in a little glam glitter for good measure, and waste no opportunity to melt a face with an over-the-top guitar solo.

Turbonegro’s early days found them toiling in Oslo obscurity, overlooked by fans and critics alike. In an effort to stand apart from the ultra-dark doom and gloom metal scene that was beginning to define Scandinavian rock, the band adopted a homosexual image complete with songs about erections, poop and plenty of blood. Styling themselves as threatening gay men, they wore sailor's hats, military regalia, women’s makeup, denim jackets and tight blue jeans ("the only textile that was actually designed for kicking ass," claims bassist Happy-Tom). Audiences didn’t know what to make of them--here were six overweight (and underweight) dudes kicking out the rockingest of jams in the silliest of costumes while singing about the strangest of things.

With the release of their 1997 masterpiece Apocalypse Dudes, Turbonegro were at the top of their game. They toured Europe, recruiting new fans to join their club, the Turbojugend, and gained quite a following stateside as well. It all proved to be too much too soon as drug problems put the band on indefinite hiatus in the late nineties. In the meantime and on the strength of a limited amount of material, the band's legend multiplied to fever pitch.

When three European festivals offered them pots of cash to reform for summer shows in 2002, they got their shit together and duly tore it up in front of 100,000+ fans. Since then, they’ve been recording new tunes (which are sadly getting progressively worse) and touring. But though they’ve been unable to recapture the magic of their past records, their live shows are still said to be totally spectacular. Embracing theatrics, the band has been known to parade dwarf doppelgangers of themselves on stage while frontman Hank Von Helvete burns sparklers between his butt cheeks. Pyrotechnics, props, lasers and fog can make a show look cool but the rock still has to roll. Luckily for them (and us), Turbonegro’s certified 100-proof brand of fist-pumping, head-banging, ass-shaking deathpunk still moves a crowd.

There was a period in my life when five beers and Apocalypse Dudes or the following album, Scandinavian Leather, could transform me into a wild animal--an untamable, pale, bony beast flailing to the shrieks of Euroboy’s guitar and Hank’s shouting until hoarse, dizzy and exhausted. Andrew Perry said it best: “In a global climate of fear, fundamentalism and repression, Turbonegro reminds you that rock & roll exists to be fun, liberated and oblivious to its own consequences.” This was the first picture I saw of them and I think it's pretty representative of the band. It’s sweaty, shreddy and soaked in booze and lipstick. This is what they look like now: ..............LISTEN TO THEM DO "SELFDESTRUCTO BUST"..............