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defrogAnd now possibly one of the more unsettling things you’ll see on the YouTubes today: a fan video for “22 Going On 23” by Butthole Surfers using old movie footage.
NOTE: Contains vintage lingerie spanking.
BACKGROUND: I’ve a special place in my heart for Butthole Surfers. I didn’t discover them until their third album, Locust Abortion Technician, (which includes the above song), but it made a lasting impression. The album's opening dialogue alone (“If you see yr mom this weekend, be sure to tell her SATAN! SATAN! SATAN!”) not only constitutes one of the greatest moments in rockinrolls history ever, it’s also a brilliant statement of intent.
Everything about Butthole Surfers was twisted and demented. They sounded like genuinely unhinged and dangerous people to know. Even Paul Leary’s guitar sounded like some Lovecraftian-level horrorshow, like Cthulhu playing a solo using yr live nerves for strings and yr skull for an amp.
Or is that laying it on too thick?
No matter. For my money, Butthole Surfers are one of the few bands that truly sounded like a threat to Decent Society and Civilization As We Know It – so much so that even a major label deal and production from John Paul Jones couldn’t make them sound any safer.
FUN FACT: I saw them live only once. That was during the first Lollerpaloozer tour. It was around two in the afternoon, so the light and smoke show was mostly wasted. But Gibby Haynes made up for it by firing a pump-action shotgun into the crowd. Not even Ted Nugent ever did that.
Right. And with this song now firmly installed in yr heads, I am off to Singapore for a few days. Transmissions will continue as normal.
Hairway to Steven,
This is dF
NOTE: Contains vintage lingerie spanking.
BACKGROUND: I’ve a special place in my heart for Butthole Surfers. I didn’t discover them until their third album, Locust Abortion Technician, (which includes the above song), but it made a lasting impression. The album's opening dialogue alone (“If you see yr mom this weekend, be sure to tell her SATAN! SATAN! SATAN!”) not only constitutes one of the greatest moments in rockinrolls history ever, it’s also a brilliant statement of intent.
Everything about Butthole Surfers was twisted and demented. They sounded like genuinely unhinged and dangerous people to know. Even Paul Leary’s guitar sounded like some Lovecraftian-level horrorshow, like Cthulhu playing a solo using yr live nerves for strings and yr skull for an amp.
Or is that laying it on too thick?
No matter. For my money, Butthole Surfers are one of the few bands that truly sounded like a threat to Decent Society and Civilization As We Know It – so much so that even a major label deal and production from John Paul Jones couldn’t make them sound any safer.
FUN FACT: I saw them live only once. That was during the first Lollerpaloozer tour. It was around two in the afternoon, so the light and smoke show was mostly wasted. But Gibby Haynes made up for it by firing a pump-action shotgun into the crowd. Not even Ted Nugent ever did that.
Right. And with this song now firmly installed in yr heads, I am off to Singapore for a few days. Transmissions will continue as normal.
Hairway to Steven,
This is dF
