Guitar Wolf's live show is always an awesome force to behold. They will play their hearts out and abuse their instruments, and sweat will pour. The only pauses in the aural mayhem come when front man Seiji slams down another beer while bassist Billy and drummer Toru comb their pompadours. Once the booze, music and spirit of rock-and-roll lunacy take over, Seiji begins climbing and jumping off of anything in sight -- amps, bars, walls, audience members -- howling, "Roooock and roooollll." When asked if he has ever suffered a serious injury from his on-stage insanity, he casually replies, "No problem. I had a surgery and I'm a cyborg wolf now."
Clearly, few bands exhibit that level of passion. Sure, lots of them are just as serious about their music, but none can deliver the same scorching sonic goods. In 1999, Guitar Wolf's magnum opus Jet Generation was unleashed with a stickered warning proclaiming it to be the loudest album of all time. From the first screech of feedback to the last filthy chord, it puts your stereo in the constant red, even if played at a safe level. Ever since, people have warned others that if you play a Guitar Wolf album loud enough, it could kill someone. That hasn't happened -- yet -- but on their latest album, Love Rock, the band dishes out infectious, unrelenting and amazing shots of high-voltage rock fury that can put you into a manic riot, bouncing off the walls until you're fighting the urge to destroy everything in sight.
The members of Guitar Wolf admit that the layers of noise and distortion help conceal their lack of technical skill. But so what? They understand the true essence of rock and roll -- that it should be beautifully chaotic -- and they create just that in a way that makes most of their peers seem insignificant, dull and useless.