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“After the set I snaked backstage to say hello. The band was hurriedly packing up, eager to get the hell out, when GG stumbled in, covered in blood and shit, shards of glass still embedded in his back. ‘What’s the mattah?’ he asked earnestly, in a stately New England twang that would do the Kennedys proud. ‘You guys pissed at me?’ Somehow he managed to get a cab to the Port Authority, where he caught a bus to his home in New Hampshire, still naked but for the jockstrap, still covered in shit and blood, and not ashamed. The cops left him alone because they thought he was a victim.”
— Mike Edison, describing the infamous Cat Club show, Screw magazine, 1986
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