Butthole Surfers Bundle Vol 2
The second part of Matadorâs reissues of the essential early records by Texasâs Butthole Surfers continues with three of their most insane slabs -- 1985âs âCream Corn from the Socket of Davis,â 1987âs âLocust AbortionTechnicianâ and 1988âs âHairway to Steven.â
The period during which these records were first issued parallels the Buttholesâ transition from being weirdo Texas outcasts to becoming internationally recognized smut-kings of the American underground. In 1985 they were still the sole province of hallucingen-soaked punk rock freaks. By 1988 they had toured Europe, had records licensed by internationally, and bought a house in Driftwood Texas to serve as their home base. But weâre getting ahead of ourselves.
âCream Cornâ plucked two tunes from âRembrandtâ and added a couple new ones that had been recorded on their home studio 8 track in Winterville Georgia. âMoving to Floridaâ (the best example ever of what Beefheart probably sounded like when heâs tripping) and the other three tracks blew peoplesâ minds by being so precise and fully-messed-up at the same time. âCream Cornâ was a perfect bite-sized taster for what would follow.
Without anyone looking over their shoulders, the band really rose to the occasion with âLocust Abortion Technician.â From the opening track, âSweat Loaf,â which quotes Black Sabbath with results both hilarious and bowel-stomping, to the scuzz-guitar riven âfoundâ vocals of â22 Going on 23,â âLocustâ is a non-stop face-full of hallucinogenic gas. Maniacal sludge guitar figures and Gibbytronix vocals are smeared everywhere, with most excellent results. For many folks. âLocustâ represents the album with which the Buttholes fully fulfilled their insane potential.
âHairway to Stevenâ is a blast, ranging from the blood-smeared guitar-overload of âJimiâ to the acoustic guitar-based sing-along sweetness of âI Saw an X-Ray of a Girl Passing Gasâ to the Fugs-like ranting of âJohn E. Smokes.â Yet somehow, the album managed to get the straight media to actually notice. For all its strangeness, âHairwayâ got rave notices in places that had never paid the band any attention previously. It was the Buttholesâ last album of the â80s and marks the beginning of their ascendance into something akin to commercial success. Not that the band actually imagined anything at all like that occurring.
When I interviewed them in February 1986, I asked Gibby about their plans, he said, âWeâve got a bunch of new songs recorded that donât even have names. We donât know what theyâre called or anything. Itâs totally out of control. We have no plans whatever. We never claimed to be quick or smart or anything. Maybe we just have one song and we fuck it up so much people think we have more. I guess the album after âLocust Abortion Technicianâ might be called âThe Butthole Surfers Buy a Synthesizer.â Weâve written lots of songs, weâve forgotten lots of songs. Thatâs the way it goes.â
 Of course, thatâs not the way it went. But I donât think anyone was more surprised about that than the band themselves. And so it goes.   Â
--Byron Coley
Original: $49.08
-65%$49.08
$17.18
Description
The second part of Matadorâs reissues of the essential early records by Texasâs Butthole Surfers continues with three of their most insane slabs -- 1985âs âCream Corn from the Socket of Davis,â 1987âs âLocust AbortionTechnicianâ and 1988âs âHairway to Steven.â
The period during which these records were first issued parallels the Buttholesâ transition from being weirdo Texas outcasts to becoming internationally recognized smut-kings of the American underground. In 1985 they were still the sole province of hallucingen-soaked punk rock freaks. By 1988 they had toured Europe, had records licensed by internationally, and bought a house in Driftwood Texas to serve as their home base. But weâre getting ahead of ourselves.
âCream Cornâ plucked two tunes from âRembrandtâ and added a couple new ones that had been recorded on their home studio 8 track in Winterville Georgia. âMoving to Floridaâ (the best example ever of what Beefheart probably sounded like when heâs tripping) and the other three tracks blew peoplesâ minds by being so precise and fully-messed-up at the same time. âCream Cornâ was a perfect bite-sized taster for what would follow.
Without anyone looking over their shoulders, the band really rose to the occasion with âLocust Abortion Technician.â From the opening track, âSweat Loaf,â which quotes Black Sabbath with results both hilarious and bowel-stomping, to the scuzz-guitar riven âfoundâ vocals of â22 Going on 23,â âLocustâ is a non-stop face-full of hallucinogenic gas. Maniacal sludge guitar figures and Gibbytronix vocals are smeared everywhere, with most excellent results. For many folks. âLocustâ represents the album with which the Buttholes fully fulfilled their insane potential.
âHairway to Stevenâ is a blast, ranging from the blood-smeared guitar-overload of âJimiâ to the acoustic guitar-based sing-along sweetness of âI Saw an X-Ray of a Girl Passing Gasâ to the Fugs-like ranting of âJohn E. Smokes.â Yet somehow, the album managed to get the straight media to actually notice. For all its strangeness, âHairwayâ got rave notices in places that had never paid the band any attention previously. It was the Buttholesâ last album of the â80s and marks the beginning of their ascendance into something akin to commercial success. Not that the band actually imagined anything at all like that occurring.
When I interviewed them in February 1986, I asked Gibby about their plans, he said, âWeâve got a bunch of new songs recorded that donât even have names. We donât know what theyâre called or anything. Itâs totally out of control. We have no plans whatever. We never claimed to be quick or smart or anything. Maybe we just have one song and we fuck it up so much people think we have more. I guess the album after âLocust Abortion Technicianâ might be called âThe Butthole Surfers Buy a Synthesizer.â Weâve written lots of songs, weâve forgotten lots of songs. Thatâs the way it goes.â
 Of course, thatâs not the way it went. But I donât think anyone was more surprised about that than the band themselves. And so it goes.   Â
--Byron Coley













