By Sarah Monson
Daily Bruin Contributor
While decent, hardworking citizens with queasy stomachs and
moral enlightenment sat at home watching “Who Wants To Be A
Millionaire” Tuesday night, the wild and rowdy underbelly of
society crammed into The Palace in Hollywood to answer to their
Regis: The Bloodhound Gang. Not for the faint of heart, or frankly
anyone with a soul, conscience, or high I.Q., The Bloodhound Gang
proved once again that being bad is a really good thing.
This raucous, raunchy band from Philly put on a spectacle of a
show that thrilled the packed house. Put together with utmost
precision, the show felt like a perverted ballet, complete with
choreographed dance numbers and huge musical bravados. This
talented bunch played explosively tight songs while keeping in line
with the theme of the show: total chaos.
Taking the stage at the late start time of 11 p.m., the set
opened with D.J. Q-Ball smoking a stogie and scratching a record,
steadily building the beat. Then the lovably pugnacious Jimmy Pop
Ali, accompanied by his fellow band mates, guitarist
Lüpüs Thünder and bassist Evil Jared jumped onstage
and proceeded to pound the audience with their meaty tunes.
Ali didn’t miss a beat, but maybe took a beating. During
the course of the one-and-a-half-hour show, he encountered a fair
share of bodily fluids. Initially bringing a fan onstage and
offering him $100 dollars to drink a 12 pack of “piss
warm” Dr Pepper, Ali compromised when the bemoaned fan
couldn’t finish the case. If he could vomit on Ali, he would
get a free T-shirt.
And indeed he could.
As the belly-aching fan puked all over Ali’s T-shirt, the
crowd went wild. But that was only the beginning.
After rocking out (and Ali still wearing the soiled shirt) to
many crowd-pleasers such as “I Wish I Was Queer So I Could
Get Chicks” and “Magna Cum Nada,” the band lured
a gaggle of girls onstage and sang “Three Point one
Four” to them.
Then water guns were fired into the unsuspecting crowd during
the bluntly titled “I Hope You Die,” after which Ali
performed various sexual acts using package of hot dogs as his
prop.
Jared also enjoyed a relaxing crowd surf around The Palace,
including a romp up in the balcony while his cohorts jammed to
“Mope” (think the love child of Frankie Goes to
Hollywood-meets-Falco of “Rock Me Amadeus” fame).
One firm memory patrons took home with them was of Ali bringing
onstage a belligerent fan who had been flipping him off during one
number. Bargaining with the fan, Ali gave him two choices: he could
either leave the venue or take his pants off. He chose the
latter.
Another unsuspecting fan was victim to a dirty trick when Evil
Jared put a beer bong in the fan’s pants and poured a carton
of milk into them.
Shockingly rude and uproariously funny, the Bloodhound Gang tore
through its set and left the audience screaming for more. Holding
out on playing the hit “The Bad Touch” until the
encore, the song provided a perfectly perverted ending to a
ridiculously risque night.
Complete with two monkey-suited dancers grooving onstage, the
highlight of “The Bad Touch” came when the band changed
into matching outfits that suspiciously resembled trademark look of
Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst, and launched into a choreographed
dance sequence that heralded thunderous applause and laughter.
It’s difficult to describe the grotesque stunts pulled by
these rowdy rebels. One must experience it live to feel the
resounding spunk that The Bloodhound Gang brought to its show.
This may leave a bad taste in your mouth, but that’s
nothing that a little hot dog milk shake can’t cure.