W.A.S.P IS NOT YET A STINGING SUCCESS : HEAVY METAL W.A.S.P.: NOT YET A STINGING SUCCESS

Seeing W.A.S.P. for the first time--three years ago at theTroubadour--was an unforgettable experience. At the time, the group was a hot local heavy-metal band in search of a record contract.

The novelty of the evening wasn’t the ear-splitting music. Nor was it the howling vocals of lead singer, bassist and chief composer Blackie Lawless. It was the meat.

As part of their sinister show, the members of W.A.S.P. wantonly threw pieces of meat at the audience with astonishing velocity. A piece hit the wall a few feet from my head with a resounding thud.

Then they bought out a live mouse and put it on the chopping block. Would they or wouldn’t they slaughter that defenseless creature? They didn’t, but you were never sure what they would do. Guys who throw meat are capable of anything.

Even then, W.A.S.P., with its great sense of theater, seemed too good to be playing clubs. Obviously, those guys were going places. Eventually they signed a megabucks deal with Capitol Records and in 1984 became one of the world’s most notorious heavy metal bands.

Outrageous and outspoken, Lawless, 29, is a fearsome figure at 6 feet 4 inches tall, weighing 200 pounds and with a mane of black and gray hair. Two years ago, Lawless made a bold prediction: “I said in three years we’d be the biggest heavy-rock band in the world. There’s a year left in that prediction.”

It’s doubtful that W.A.S.P. will make it on schedule. The band--opening for KISS Saturday at the Orange Pavilion in San Bernardino, Monday at the Sports Arena in San Diego and Tuesday at the Forum--still isn’t a major headliner. Its first album, “W.A.S.P.,” did well for a debut but the followup, “The Last Command,” peaked in the ‘60s on the Billboard magazine pop chart and is currently sliding.

What happened?

W.A.S.P., which also includes guitarists Chris Holmes and Randy Piper and drummer Steve Riley, is having trouble for several reasons. First, it’s pushing a brand of heavy metal--raunchy and basic--that radio programmers seldom play and many metal fans regard as outdated. It’s the opposite of the melodic metal of current fan favorites Quiet Riot, Ratt and Motley Crue.

Also, W.A.S.P.’s show, a witty, sordid S & M follies, continues to be better than its albums. Props for one of their torture-rock extravaganzas include simulated blood, torture racks, skeletons and axes. But apparently seeing the show is no particular inspiration to buy the albums.

Lawless even griped that fans watch the show and don’t listen to the music. “They listen with their eyes not their ears,” he grumbled. “What a pity. They’re missing some good music.”

The Parents Music Resources Center, the crusading organization dedicated to taking the raunch out of rock, is appalled by some of the band’s lyrics. To the PMRC, W.A.S.P. is thoroughly degenerate. This group’s opposition probably has hurt W.A.S.P, as did all the notoriety during its European tour.

“In some places over there, the Catholic Church protested our shows,” Lawless recalled proudly. “Ireland wouldn’t even let us in the country.”

Though Lawless denied it, the negative publicity had to have some effect on the acceptance of its latest album, “The Last Command.” Notoriety isn’t the bonus it used to be.

Lawless called “The Last Command” innovative and relatively complex, quite unlike basic heavy metal. Some critics don’t agree, insisting that each song is merely one long shriek.

In language teeming with aggression, Lawless described how he reaches an audience. To hear him tell it, what W.A.S.P. does on stage isn’t a performance, it’s an attack.

“I go out to beat the audience’s brains out. I look at it like a boxing match. W.A.S.P. is four angry people. We get angry for the same reasons as everybody else. In a show, I’m taking my anger out on the audience. I’m really drained and harmless after a show.”

Lawless is a disciple of the theory embraced by most heavy-metal bands. He contended they neither inspire violence nor celebrate evil and cruelty. Their purpose, he insisted, is a benevolent one--to drain all the energy out of their young audience.

“When they leave they’re limp and harmless,” Lawless explained. “They vent all their frustrations during our show. We’re sticking a funnel in them and siphoning out all that bad energy. They’re docile and exhausted after the show. They’re not out looting and pillaging. Parents should be thanking us for performing a service instead of condemning us.”

Lawless, by the way, is the real name of this native New Yorker. Blackie is a nickname he’s had since he was 13.

“Since I had such a great last name I wanted a great nickname to go with it,” he explained. “I wanted something that sounded like Jesse James. I’ve always wanted to be an outlaw. I’ve always wanted to be the Jesse James of rock ‘n’ roll.”