Scott Ian's "Swearing Words in Glasgow"

It takes a lot of courage to step out of your comfort zone.  For Scott Ian, that’s exactly what he’s doing, coming out from the behind the guitar, so long the sole identity of his artistic expression, and putting together a one man show describing his crazy career from the very beginning.  Ian, the formative rhythm man for Anthrax, has some experience as a television personality, but centering the attention on himself without the benefit of his primary craft is a new, and likely moderately terrifying, experience.

Where Ian excels in the show, plainly titled “Swearing Words in Glasgow,” is simply in being himself and not stretching for the sake of the show.  His delivery needs some work to smooth out the wrinkles, but in Ian’s defense, he knows this and almost makes that part of the show, too.  His performance, if it can be called such, isn’t as smooth or nailed down as the streamlined-by-experience Henry Rollins, and is far more tangential than the slick maneuvering of a stand-up comic.  There are a lot of anecdotes within each primary story, and a lot of I-told-you-that-story-to-tell-you-this-one, but the inclusion of those elements helps flesh out Ian’s diatribe in a way that makes it seem much more human and less rehearsed.

As for the meat of the performance (I keep using that word for want of a better one,) Ian essentially lays down a conversation in three acts, which each run about a half hour or so.  In the first act, Ian is a young man, fresh on the road doing promos in Europe and encounters his hero Lemmy Kilmister for the first time.  Some of the anecdotes he talks about, complete with slide-show style visual and artistic aides, have been heard before in the “Lemmy” documentary, but here we see them exclusively from Ian’s point of view, which is refreshing. 

The second act is actually the best as it crosses cultural lines to tell a long, winding tale involving the movie “AI: Artificial Intelligence,” Steven Spielberg, Al Jourgensen of Ministry, practical jokes, Meat Loaf and a chance meeting between Spielberg and Ian himself.  This is the kind of story that Ian excels at – one where he plays the part of fan, narrator, participant and pop culture figure in equal percentages.  More than any stand-up comedian, Ian’s casual yet happenstance access to all of these people lends his story the kind of ‘only in Hollywood’ illumination that is foreign to most people, but told in relatable fashion by Ian, who himself can’t quite believe the story he’s telling.

He caps off the principle part of the evening with a tale of revenge three years in the making against good friend Dimebag Darrell, a long-awaited payback for a night of hell that the Pantera guitarist put Ian through as part of a long-running gag.  Much as with the rest of Ian’s material, it’s a highly human story, the kind of things we’ve all thought about, even as he wends his way through this tale of metal luminaries.

If there’s a bad thing to say about “Swearing Words in Glasgow,” it’s that the whole thing is too damn long.  At two a quarter hours, the set is long by concert standards, never mind comedy or speaking standards.  The Q & A session isn’t terribly revealing, mostly because the fans in attendance, put on the spot, largely fail to ask interesting questions.  The only worthwhile tidbits that truly get gleaned out of the entire Q & A exercise is that Blackie Lawless is evidently a douche (not a terrible shock, let’s be honest,) and a great story involving making Slayer laugh by suspending a fish above the stage. 

After this there are some last minute morsels from Ian to the crowd, but like a Spike Lee movie, he can’t seem to find his ending with agility.  He says ‘this is the last thing’ probably in the market of six or seven times, only one of which actually is, which is when he honestly thanks the crowd and appreciates their attendance of his experiment. 

Said and done “Swearing Words in Glasgow” is a pretty good ride for the bulk of the duration.  In the worst case, just shut it off after about an hour and forty-five minutes and you’ll have had a great time.  Consider the rest as a ‘special feature’ to be watched another time.  Ian himself is funny, honest, candid and really puts his heart and soul into the show, which is both refreshing and enjoyable.  Give it a look, there’s something in there for everyone, even the non-metal initiated.