I can remember sitting at the register in the Record & Tape Exchange in College Park, Maryland, in 1988 and listening to the late John Rouse recount a recent Butthole Surfers concert. John, always one step ahead in listening to the coolest things, seemed unlike the sort of fan I imagined would attend a show by the Texan weirdos. John, decked out in what I always called a Standells-resurrected style, had me roaring with laughter as he stated that he genuinely feared for his own safety while watching the Surfer light oil cans on fire at the old 9:30 Club. On a stage with rear-projected car crash and medical experiment films behind them, I should add.
The legend of the Butthole Surfers is a large one. It's overshadowed the group's actual music over the years. And while for many, that mythos is why they even care about this band, the music of the outfit deserves some attention. Now, in the first of a whole string of reissues, Matador Records is bringing back three early releases from Butthole Surfers, with more to follow later in 2024. PCPPEP (1984), Psychic... Powerless... Another Man's Sac (1984), and Rembrandt Pussyhorse (1986) are out on vinyl and digital download. Is it weird to say how good they sound? That never seemed to be the point with a Surfers record, right?
The first EP is a freak-out still. Familiar numbers like "The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey's Grave" and "Cowboy Bob" (an early version of a tune that would show up on their first album) are here in all their brutal glory. The guitar of Paul Leary does so much work on these numbers that it surprises a bit so many decades later. Sure, Gibby Haynes' antics as frontman were what got this band attention, but there's a compelling case to be made for just how innovative Leary's playing was. A twang-y violence anchoring "Wichita Cathedral" is a good example of the point I'm trying to make.
While still rough, the sound of the Butthole Surfers comes into its own on 1984's Psychic... Powerless... Another Man's Sac. Forty years later it's easy to fit this record neatly into the more extreme musics of the time from the group's contemporaries like Swans, The Birthday Party, and so on. But let's not forget just how transgressive this stuff was when everyone was dancing to Madonna and Duran Duran on the radio. There's chaos here but also a bit of inventiveness. "Eye of the Chicken", for example, impressively strides between pure noise and a more precise experimentalism, while "Cherub" is a deconstruction and demolition of Southern boogie styles. It pummels a listener, as does the more nimble "Lady Sniff", still an unsettling bit of business. If the hidden weapon of the first EP was Paul Leary's guitar, here it's the combined drum attack from King Coffey and Teresas Nervosa. Their work gives this real heft and a demented, though controlled, force.
Rembrandt Pussyhorse flirts with a shocking coherence. "Creep in the Cellar" is nearly melodic, with the sideways hook of "Sea Ferring" being another standout here. A cover of "American Woman" is an early indication of this group's ability to control themselves when necessary. This 1984 album sounds great, with a crisp sound that reveals more nuance in the Surfers attack than we might have remembered. If the first two albums earned the band their unhinged bonafides, this is the one that made folks at least, even if begrudingly, give respect to their musical prowess. If you can call it that. For every track like this cover, and the sharp "Perry" that point the Butthole Surfers towards a more structured attack, there are others that are still mysteries. "Whirling Hall of Knives" and "Strangers Die Everyday" are unsettling and confusing, likely the band's intent so many decades ago. Even next to the abrasiveness of era peers Birthday Party, this remains odd stuff.
Having never sounded this good, these stand as seminal records from the American underground. For an outfit that always seemed so outlandish, and such outlaws (at least sonically), there's still enough pep and power in these releases to warrant a new listen. Long-time fans will be pleased at being able to hear more now, and not just a mass of noise. PCPPEP (1984), Psychic... Powerless... Another Man's Sac (1984), and Rembrandt Pussyhorse (1986) by Butthole Surfers are out on vinyl and digital download from Matador Records.
[Photo: Pat Blashill]