This is an updated version of a review that was originally published in Bleeding Skull! A 1980s Trash-Horror Odyssey.
The end credits just rolled on Terror on Tour. I think I have an STD.
When you’re on tour, baggies of cocaine strewn across various body parts are as common as autographed guitar picks. Just ask The Clowns. Portrayed by real-life band The Names (Rick Styles, Chip Greenman, Rich Pemberton, Dave Galuzzo—aka the best names on earth), The Clowns have amazing exploits while on tour. These adventures are well documented in the sewer-slasher known as Terror On Tour—even if the band isn’t actually on tour. But that’s okay. When we’ve got jabronis reciting their lines in a cloud of Xanax while impersonating KISS, there’s no room for complaints.
OR IS THERE?!
Accompanied by clown makeup, Dracula capes, and onstage gore theatrics, The Clowns are finally “making it” after years of “paying our dues.” They sound like basement dads covering Cheap Trick. The groupies love ‘em (“You’re better than The Beatles or The Kiss!”), the hipsters party with ‘em (John Wintergate and Kalassu from Boardinghouse show up for a food fight), and the promoters don’t get ‘em. Beneath the coke and makeout sessions, someone pretends to be a Clown and starts murdering fans after each show. Two drunk cops are on the case. A roadie may or may not be putting on Clown make-up to get laid. All of the shows take place at the same venue.
Contrary to the slime that oozes out of every frame, Terror On Tour isn’t a crotch-shredding, slasher-rock masterpiece. I wanted Heavy Metal Parking Lot meets Heavy Metal Massacre, but I fell asleep instead. That’s not surprising, as the movie was directed by Don Edmonds, the same person who also knocked me into zzz-town with the Ilsa films. Terror on Tour wallows in scumbag excess, but it’s never explicit. We see the cocaine and bloody noses. We don’t see the sex on the floor of a grimy bathroom or a backstage dressing room covered with entrails. The synth-blasts are always welcome, as are the brief sequences of The Clowns performing their atrocious songs. But small details can’t wash away the bigger problems. If I want cool synths plus a band performing shitty songs plus a good time, I’ll watch Rocktober Blood. Terror On Tour buries the occasional eerie visuals with static photography and a lack of enthusiasm on all fronts. It is what the people call a bummer.
Still, the existence of movies like this fascinate me to no end. I love the fact that someone preserved their dream of a rock and roll murder fantasy on film. I just wish my pee didn’t hurt so bad after watching it.
