Crotchduster
Big Fat Box of Shit
8.3
In the spirit of Crotchduster and Spinal Tap, I’d like to give this album the original “two word review”: Big Fat Box of Shit Sandwich. Of course, that’s more than two words, but hey, I can't help it--this album has a longer title than the legendary Tap’s Shark Sandwich. Regardless, I think it’s a review the band would treasure.
I should stop there, but I won’t. Crotchduster is a side project that includes Jason Suecof from Capharnaum, whose Fractured album is one the of the year’s best. It’s not clear who else is involved in the project, as the members of the band are listed as Slippery Jim (vox, devastation, invention), Fornicus “Fuckmouth” McFlappy (vox, guitars, creation), and Cain (drums, breathing, ripping biting). Oh, and Cain is a dog. Those names should give you an idea of what Crotchduster is all about. Big Fat Box of Shit is a bizarre manic whirlwind, combining metal with a handful of other genres and outlandish and nearly always obscene comic dialogue. The sum of this concoction is a kind of death metal Mr. Bungle meets Ween and S.O.D., with the gender sensitivity of 2 Live Crew. The Mr. Bungle comparison seems most accurate, but while that band’s work left you feeling that the band was truly odd, Crotchduster have a very definite “we’re just dudes fucking around quality.” Which is cool, as long as you realize up front that you’re buying an album of some guys fucking around and being goofy.
Big Fat Box of Shit centers around a guy named Williams, who has figured out a way to travel to another dimension (quite an accomplishment, but he used his main competency--his PhD in dumptruck mechanics) and sell mammal sauce by the truck full. What is mammal sauce, you ask? Who knows, except that it’s made from goat teeth, and that everyone in the dimension of Williamsburgland needs it badly. Anyway, these inter-dimensional travels cause Williams to suffer some mental freak outs, and it is the effects of these episodes that form the lyrics and 180 degree stylistic musical shifts of the songs. No kidding, this album probably uses a dozen different styles from varying genres. The metal is mostly death, but they jump between styles regularly. Not blend, jump. The metal stuff is sandwiched between a variety of, among others, lounge-ish white boy funk, jazz, hip hop, rock, broadway, and what is best described as game show theme music. The music itself is catchy, but what is interesting is the spastic stylistic contortions between genres and the outrageous lyrics and dialogue. The music is nearly completely free of transitions, it feels more like flipping through TV channels. Crotchduster take several opportunities to do some lighthearted lampooning by “covering” snippets of tracks by Slayer and Megadeth, while providing alternative lyrics of course. There is also a hilarious over the top (big surprise!) Glenn Danzig vocal impression at the end of one of the tracks. James Hetfield gets similar treatment.
But the key to whether or not you’ll enjoy the album rests less with the music than whether or not you think the album is funny. And it often is. Of course, it helps if you have the sense of humor of a sixth grader, as I do. Do you cackle like a mental patient at a steady barrage of offensive statements and language, and sexually explicit talk? Well then, Crotchduster, who have kind of a Jay and Silent Bob feel to their dialogue, may be right up your alley. Some of the dialogue gets a little boring, usually when it is simply normal discussion building to a punchline. But when it works it’s hilarious. The “hate mail” bit at the end of “Crotchopus” is laugh out loud funny.
This is a love it or hate it kind of album. Go to Willowtip’s website and check out two tracks from the album, and all will be made clear. If you like those tracks, you can order the album, and await the day your very own Big Fat Box of Shit arrives in the mail.
