Nov 10, 2008

Back in 1981 or so, my younger brother and I started a band called Butt Acne. I ran a screwdriver up and down the neck of an acoustic guitar with a mic wrapped in toilet paper, shoved into the soundhole of the guitar and plugged into a movie projector, which resulted in a sound not unlike two trains colliding. He played a drumset that, quite literally, was made of aluminum and had plastic heads, which he beat in wild abandon with branches he got from the avocado tree out back. When the plastic heads busted, he would pile the aluminum shells in a pile and bash away at that, screaming at the top of his lungs about having sex with dead people, killing assorted elected officials, and anything else our eleven- and thirteen-year-old minds could muster up. It was fun. What does all this have to do with this release, you ask? Well, they sound a few years older than we were, they fall woefully short of the fifty song set list we somehow amassed, and they aren’t as fast as we were. They’ve managed to talk someone to into releasing a CD, while the best we were able to muster was getting our friend Pat to include us on a split tape with Voice Of Authority, which I guess means they have more juice. Other than that, the utter stupidity of both bands could be interchangeable.

 –jimmy (We Are Going to Eat You)

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