Butthole Surfers - Weird Revolution

Kay, so we’re back in the Folder of Doom, and I guess I have to point out that the last time Butthole Surfers made a studio album was 2001. They were originally making an album titled After the Astronaut in 1998, but they stopped giving a crap for 3 years. Released in August of 2001, so yeah. You remember their one weird hit song Pepper, and you probably remember being really sorry you checked out anything from their back catalogue. Good. They didn’t want you to like their music. They truly did not care. I adore them. So, yeah, the baby shooting laser beams at fighter jets was total coincidence. What’s not a coincidence is that they didn’t really like this album at all. I could pull out all my Bottle Battle cards and go to town on behind the scenes stuff, but all the drums are made to sound sampled even if they aren’t, there’s very little actual guitar work of Butthole Surfers “quality,” and if I didn’t know any better I’d say someone who thought they were important repeatedly screamed that Gibby wasn’t being Beck enough for his liking. 

They were really hyping up a new album in 2018, but that never materialized. Fans of Butthole Surfers tend to like the first album they heard and nothing else. Partly that’s because the albums are so random, but it’s mostly because the band is the exact opposite of consistent and they literally only do what’s fun at the moment. Ironic considering they completely hated making albums and touring and would have rather just played random shows and light hotel rooms and RVs on fire. You know how Primus is bizarre, but you never feel like Les Claypool is going to go to jail after the show? Well, it’s the exact opposite here, how did these guys make bail in time to actually get to the show at all? Or like GG Allen, how was that psycho allowed to freely wander around in public? They aren’t technically broken up, but I wouldn’t hold your breath for much more than a random solo album every few years. 

Regardless, Weird Revolution. Is it good, is it bad, does it matter? I think they’d tell you it’s pretty terrible, and critics get al non-dairy creamer about it (that’s a half-and-half joke), but down here at Crazy Bottle’s we ask the important questions: is it confusing? Is it logical? Am I glad I listened to the whole thing? Did I wince at least once, and laugh at least twice? Gimme an hour…

… protecting our women from the bow-legged, bug-eyed normal man…  squirrels smoking crack… had to get a bike, had to paint it red… the people in the window are the victims of the sky… Shit Like That is pretty normal for Butthole Surfers…  Bob Dylan on a motor scooter… if it weren’t for all the people I’d be all alone… get down get down get down get down get… his dog drank gasoline… jet fighters never die… absolutely no ambulances… foreign languages are totally normal for Butthole Surfers… and cried my tears through an eye without a face at all…

Kay, first of all, this is a fantastic album. We have to check the score card, though. Confusing? Yes. Logical? No. Happy Bottle? Indubitably. Wincing? No, actually, this is decidedly tame for Butthole Surfers, but Mexico was borderline. Laughing? A little, but mostly I just enjoyed it.

Final verdict: this album is like if Violent Femmes hired Beck to produce a Revolting Cocks album. It has the flavors of Hip-Hop, Industrial, like a strange Len Steal My Sunshine vibe on Dracula from Houston, and I guess that’s technically rap if you’re not allowed to just say that’s just normal Gibby Haynes. Now, this is by far the most radio friendly album they ever made, I’ll give you that. Everything on here is a pop song, albeit filtered through a full sheet of LSD blotters. Unlike their classic albums which veer from pure Noise Rock to Country to Avant Sludge all in the space of 5 minutes, this one is insanely consistent. If your Butthole Surfers is the ADD exacerbated by cocaine and cheap beer Butthole Surfers, then you will hate it. I however kinda feel like yeah, this is the weirdest Butthole Surfers album. It’s approachable. By that I mean you could play it for a friend and he'd be like “ok, this really isn’t that bad at all. Were they a whole lot weirder before this?,” to which you might reply “you have no idea.”   

To be fair, Independent Worm Saloon is probably my favorite, but Butthole Surfers is not a discography band at all. You should just be glad that any of their albums exist.