Day 1: Los Angeles at the Whisky-a-Go-Go
When the Dwarves first came to California in 1986, the Whisky was synonymous with hair metal. The most derivative, mediocre, poodle-coiffed hair metal the world had to offer up and down the strip every night, but the Whisky was ground zero, and we hated it passionately. Imagine my surprise, then, in April of 2025, to find that the staff here was cool, even the traditional shaggy haired sound guys, and that everyone from the stage to the office couldn’t have been groovier. Most importantly, the fans that packed the hall were hungry for the real thing, not a Hollywood simulation. We even got a surprise appearance from the recently deceased rock legend The Fresh Prince of Darkness. It’s enough to restore a jaded old rocker’s faith in rock ‘n’ roll!
As for The Dwarves’ performance, it was brilliant, legendary, stupendous, and modest all at the same time. Though our bassist Nick “Frasier” Oliveri had been hip to headliners EYEHATEGOD for decades, this was my first taste of their particular brand of sick making, dirty, hardcore rock. Never having heard the band, I figured EHG for a bunch of heavy metal guys with the usual infuriating status-conscious pecking order shit. Fortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Led by singer and full-time deviant Mike IX, EYEHATEGOD throbbed and oozed their way through a set that managed to channel punk, hardcore, grunge, stoner rock, and every other hard genre of the last 40 years, twisting it into an unpredictable mess that the crowd lapped up like damaged mice at a cheeseboard. Now I’m an EHG fan, too!
Day 2: Long Beach at Alex’s
When people ask me my favorite club in Los Angeles, I say it’s in Long Beach. Alex’s combines the best of dive bar sleaziness with good music, cool fans, and an actual guy named Alex behind the whole operation. We were hoping for a visit from LBC’s finest percussionist Black Josh Freese, but he was recovering from a vicious poodle attack and had to take a rain check. Adorning the backstage were photos from the history of Alex’s, and I was proud to see Albert Licano’s classic shot of Blag the Ripper crowd surfing with an anguished look that fairly screamed, “I’m too damn old for this; put me down!”
With the cute and wonderful Julia Lofstrand snapping tonight’s photos, I knew I needed to be extra attractive, so I put on the same jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers I’ve worn for four decades, but then plastered my newly sprouted hair down with half a bottle of pomade. I felt just like the guys from 90210, though that zip code is a world away from Long Beach.
We have a new guitarist on this tour who goes by the ambiguous name of Ginger. Hailing from the sunny shores of Italy, he’s young and cute with long hair and a positive attitude. That won’t last, though! Once again, we triumphed onstage, earning our fifth Grammy nomination for Best Low Budget Punk Ensemble, only to be beaten out by Danity Kane Mach 2. Dwarves are always the bridesmaids, never the goddamn bride!
Day 3: Oxnard at Mrs. Olson’s
While EHG jetted back to New Orleans for the night, we busted out a gut level set at a great club by the beach where the owner made us burgers and smoothies and basically proved just how cool one can be using only black lights and voodoo.
My nephew showed up and immediately zeroed in on vocalist Madd Lucas from the Sik Sik Sicks, making me both proud and disgusted at the same time. Madd and I duetted on the classic pop punk gem “We Will Dare” from The Dwarves Concept Album and reminded everyone present just why we won Pitchfork’s recent “Old Bands That Should Really Be Ashamed of Themselves at This Point” Award for our transcendent music and perpetual adolescence. Long live the ‘NARD!
Day 4: Santa Cruz at Catalyst
Surf City pulled out all the stops on this extravaganza featuring not just Dwarves and EYEHATEGOD, but Bl’ast offshoot Dusted Angel, Luicidal (original Suicidal Tendencies vets!), Dr. Know, Verbal Abuse, and the always-notorious Fang, a band I’d kill to see anytime. But notorious promoter Heath also cross-pollinated us with pro wrestling! I love wrestling because they are the only people with goofier names than us, including Dave Wasted, Rob Shit, The Stoner Bros, and Doc Atrocity. As for me, I got my licks in helping Christina Von Eerie defeat the Crazy Cajun in a no-holds-barred grudge match that pitted brains against brawn with a dash of cayenne pepper. As always, when the Dwarves hit the stage, the big winners were the fans and their drug dealers. Ancient dwarf Wholley Smokkes even came by to give us skating tips!
Day 5: San Francisco at DNA Lounge
My adopted home town can be spotty for rock these days. Between the tech and finance bros and an overwhelming “can’t do” sense permeating our crumbling downtown, I attend far too many groovy shows in empty halls. Not tonight. A sleazy new generation of young rock freaks oozed out to see EHG and got hip to the original SF sleaze merchants of underground punk. (By that I mean US!)
This show made me remember why we’d moved to SF four decades ago from the Midwest and never looked back. I can’t smoke on the road anymore or my voice fries out, so I swallowed a huge quantity of drugs, then fed my face at the Grubstake late night with the band. Snupac gave the Dwarves a new lease on life by being a groovy drummer who, crucially, doesn’t bitch and moan like old guys tend to do after a few days in a van. Rex Everything, a bonafide rock legend, proves every night why he’s the only guy I ever let substitute for me onstage. No one plays bass like him, writes lyrics, or slams out riffs like him; the man is a complete original and a card-carrying psychotic to boot!
New guy Ginger injected more excitement into our shows than a piranha slicing through panties, but the center of our universe remains our tour manager, videographer, archivist, and spiritual guru The Lizard. Anyone who can tolerate all of us at the same time without committing ritual seppuku deserves applause, but this Kiowa warrior makes the whole sick lopsided machine run like a Swiss watch through butter. Long Live Lloyd!
Day 6: Reno at Cypress
The biggest little city in the world is the official tourist nickname for Reno, but I’m skeptical. It’s a sad and dreary, off-brand version of Vegas even on its best days. But our old pal Chapin met us at the club with a steak-and-polenta food fest that set the stage for the best Monday night in Reno we’ve ever had.
EHG tour guru ZACH had to bribe me to do this show because of the ludicrous drive to Portland the next day, and I came fully prepared to phone this performance in like a married couple on date night. However, local heroes Pussy Velour forced me to get back on my game as they rocked with ferocious, pansexual glam energy, and I didn’t want to be outdone by folks younger and better-looking than me. I lost my phone after the show, but psychic Snupac used his Spidey senses to locate it before we left town, yet another talent from this wonderkid who might one day complete puberty.
The drive the next day was atrocious, reminding me why I’m always quitting rock ‘n’ roll and threatening to pursue my real passion, horticulture. (What do you mean “That doesn’t mean what I thought it did” …)
Day 7: Portland at Dante’s
Frank Faillace is the kind of person who should promote every rock show in America and run every strip club as well. At a time when both strip joints and rock clubs tend to suck beyond belief, Frank brings his trademark honesty and humor to everything he touches, even the genitals of the truly psychotic. Knowing how incompetent I am, he even supplies me with a stack of singles so I can look cool in the midst of shapely breasts and buttocks that thrust at me like a fecund flesh bouquet.
Before the party, though, rock beckons. EYEHATEGOD is absolutely destroying every night. Jimmy Bower’s guitar, Aaron Hill’s drums, and Gary Mader’s bass combine to make a truly puke inducing punk sludge that evokes Black Flag’s later sound (before Ginn replaced his band with skateboarders and toddlers.) I love opening for these guys; it’s like the ultimate one-two punch—We bring the crowd to the point of frenzy, and then EHG transports them to a magic world in which drug abuse, teenage cutting behavior, and glorious noise deliver them to Morpheus’ doorway.
Day 8: Seattle at El Corazon
Dana Sims has hated Ssub/Pop almost as long as I have, so I love his club in Seattle and his band Spiral Death Curse. I had dinner with the fabulous Darts where we talked garage music and Nicole’s newest project Black Violet that I was lucky enough to sing on. The best part of touring is hanging out with friends and eating out at fancy places. In fact, I suggested Eating Out at Fancy Places as the name of the new Darts record, but they vetoed the idea.
The last time we played Seattle, we underwhelmed, then got our asses handed to us by our old friends Zeke, so I was determined we would remind Smack City that we invented the grunge scene, and we still put on the best show in rock ‘n’ roll. And we did not disappoint.
Rex Everything has the most hardcore voice in hardcore and plays bass more brilliantly than anyone has a right to; Snupac runs the show, controlling the pace, the tempo, and the occasional beat down of a heckler, and Ginger gets Rookie of the Year honors for killing it every night on his first Dwarves tour. Add to that the living legend that is me, Blag the Ripper, Ralph Champagne, Junior High, whatever you wanna call me, and you’ve simply got the best band in the world onstage every fucking night!
It’s sweet to return to Seattle where we first inflamed the world’s earlobes with Blood, Guts & Pussy in 1990. Now we’re back 35 years later to blow minds and hawk copies of our unreleased 1989 recording Sunshine, Lollipops & Rainbow picture disc that captures what fans at a Dwarves show might have heard back when we were indeed YOUNG & GOOD LOOKING. As FRANK ZAPPA once observed, ”The Torture Never Stops.
Day 9 Eugene at John Henry’s
From smoking dope with Clifford from Bl’ast, to smoking dope with Saltpeter’s daughter, to smoking dope with anyone who could spare any, I stayed high this entire night, forgetting about the show, which was great, and the other bands, who were great, too. Planting my brain firmly in the mushyard at the end of another sick and sordid rock outing ending here in the armpit of Oregon, I want to thank EYEHATEGOD and The Dwarves for being rock legends and all of you for tuning in.
