POP MUSIC REVIEW : Violence Gets Dwarves 15 Minutes of Fame at Bogart’s

Just minutes into the Dwarves’ brief set at Bogart’s Wednesday, the heavy-on-the-shock punk band’s guitarist kicked a slam-dancing member of the audience square in the face. Some opening move, eh?

Actually, it probably came as no surprise to anyone familiar with the San Francisco quartet, which is renowned for violent, confrontational shows--as well as for offensive lyrics and album covers (check out the two naked, bloody teen-age girls on the band’s Sub Pop Records debut package).

The Bogart’s stop was the Dwarves’ first in Southern California since they were kicked off Sub Pop for faking the death of their guitarist in a publicity stunt. Fans--and there were enough to nearly fill the club--apparently see the Dwarves as a band they love to hate, and go to the shows to abuse or be abused.

The interaction between the audience and the band Wednesday was often disturbing. The violence seemed to get worse as the set progressed: A band member smashed a fan on the head after the fan bumped into him while dancing on stage; another musician cracked a beer bottle over a fan’s head when some fans started trashing the group’s equipment at the end of the show.

Some closing move, eh?

So what about the music? The Dwarves whipped out high-speed songs with a sort of twisted, sleazy take on the New York Dolls’ old campy sound. Singer Blag Dahlia, who was dressed in stretch pants with Elvis’ face printed on them and a woman’s gold lame tank-top, railed into the microphone like an angry, supercharged Alice Cooper.

Most of the songs clocked in under two minutes and were effective in the adrenaline-pumping punk sense. The band only played for 15 minutes, but maybe that’s all one should expect. If the Dwarves did that much damage in a quarter-hour, there may not have been anyone left standing if the set had gone the customary 60 minutes-plus.

In some ways the violence at virtually every Dwarves show makes the band as predictable as a middle-of-the-road trouper, as Barry Manilow, as if there’s an old-fashioned theatrical game plan at work. If the Dwarves had to rely on music alone, they’d just be another face in the post-punk crowd. But as long as they literally attack that post-punk crowd, they have a perverse “look at that car accident” appeal that may best be left to psychologists to explain.