LOVE IN THE TIME OF COVID, THE ALBUM: B IS FOR BUTTHOLE.

It’s time for the second musical entry in our own private Covidapalooza.

Each day for 26 days, I’m pulling a band out of my playlist to help you escape the tedium of being stuck inside the house with only the people, animals, or battery-powered implements you love to talk to.

Today it’s the second entry in the series. If you hadn’t guessed from their name, The Butthole Surfers are hardly a band who gives a shit about commercial success. And if the name didn’t twig you, one look at a catalogue that includes the likes of I Saw an X-Ray of a Girl Passing Gas, Chewin’ George Lucas’ Chocolate, and Golden Showers should really get the message across. They’re independent rock gods, with a legendary live show that has caused as many injuries as award ceremonies.

I first encountered them when their most not-as-radio-unfriendly-as-everything-else-on-the-album track Pepper, from arguably their most commercial album Electriclarryland (The one with a kid-friendly cover that depicted depicting a blood-stained pencil being shoved deeeeep into an anonymous cartoon guy’s ear. That commercial-friendly album.) captured some limited airtime on JJJ. It was love at first chuckle, and I’ve been sliding down their aural rabbit holes ever since.

Today’s song is the titular track from, perhaps, my favourite Surfers album: The Weird Revolution. It’s utterly unlike almost all of the rest of their output, but then, so is almost all of the rest of their output.

 

 

If you’re late to the party, here’s the rest of the playlist so far:

A is for the Angels.

 

 

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