An extreme close-up of a young man’s face with long dirty hair flowing past his shoulders and copious amounts of blood streaming down his face and neck: Such is the highly controversial album cover art, and image, of Andrew W.K., the newest rock shocker to appear on the pop scene. He is certainly not a mother-approved act.
Two weeks ago at the 9:30 Club, the crowd was small but curious, having heard of W.K. through some underground channel or another. The only apparent unifying characteristic of the audience that night was that nobody in the club had bathed for the past three days. In attendance were long-haired metalheads, long-haired neo-hippies, mulleted butt rockers and maybe a girl or two.
Nobody was really sure what to expect from the young Detroit rocker. His keyboard-driven heavy metal sound is familiar to anthem rock fans, but the diabolically catchy hooks and sheer excitement present in the music are a welcome escape from much of today’s self-righteous, angst-filled rock. The single “Party Hard” is already enormously popular in the UK and his new album, I Get Wet promises to hit America hard. But the question on everyone’s mind was, Does this guy take himself seriously?
It is difficult to tell. In interviews Andrew never gives away his full name. The W.K. has been reported to stand for “White Killer,” “Wild Kid” and “Who Knows?” (It really stands for Wilkes-Krier, his parents’ last names.) In describing his album, the intended effect is also ambiguous. “This record is about ‘not stopping’ in every sense of the word … Whatever you do in life, if you go full bore you’re bound to get wet?with blood, sweat, urine, semen or girls’ lubricant. This record is about cutting in to the heart of existence and getting wet. It’s an explosion of human life.”
Did he take himself seriously on stage? Again, it was difficult to tell. Andrew took the stage clad in the same acid-washed jeans and a dirty white T-shirt that he wears in all of his photographs (even the ones for the summer Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue), backed by a ridiculous-looking band of Tampa metalheads. It was immediately apparent when he kicked off the set with “It’s Time To Party,” that the show was going to be everything the audience had hoped. Andrew jumped and thrashed and freaked out non-stop through the entire performance. There was enough jump-kicking and fancy footwork to put the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to shame. His hair swung like a bullwhip and in between songs, instead of putting the microphone onto a stand, he stuck it down the front of his pants. His band (bass, drums and three guitars all doubling the same riffs) made stupid faces and pranced foolishly around the stage. The result was a highly energetic, highly entertaining show. He blistered through the set, which clocked in at under an hour, but certainly concertgoers still woke up the next morning with a sore neck and arms thanks to furious fist-pumping and head-banging.
The music is sinfully singable, and one chorus is usually sufficient to learn the words to shout along. Though Andrew did not say anything intelligible the entire evening (there were a few grunts), the enormous grin on his face gave away his excitement. In photographs and while performing Andrew appears tortured and furious, but after the set when he jumped down into the audience and gave out hugs and handshakes, his smile was brilliant and friendly. Andrew W.K.’s moron-rock is not intelligent or politically conscious, but it is more fun than anything that has visited the MTV rotation in a long while.
Andrew W.K. is able to seize his audience by completely throwing himself bodily into his music. As a result, it really does not matter whether or not he takes himself seriously, because the message is clear. This is not an act or a freak show?this is a man who is all about living hard and having fun.
