Thank God people still have the time, energy and resources to make records like this in the 1990s. And thank God we hardly ever have to hear them....
THANK GOD PEOPLE STILL have the time, energy and resources to make records like this in the 1990s. And thank God we hardly ever have to hear them.
The Inside Ov A Butcher’s Shop is Mick the shouty Scotsman out of Prolapse, and apparently three other grown men who have to do this to avoid getting their dole stopped.
To think they probably listened to this over and over while recording it, chills the blood. [I]”Carnage, carnage, every fucking day of my life”[/I], they chant, for a full 31-and-a-half minutes. Then again for another five minutes on the other track on the CD.
If there is a message, aside from hilariously in-jokey Dadaist mischief, it appears to be on the sleeve, where they claim they ‘utilised their now famous cardboard tube as a phallic symbol to humiliate the butchers’, who, they also claim, are mostly impotent. Laugh? I nearly listened to it the whole way through.
While I admire their persistence, familiarity breeds contempt. You can imagine this being played to torture Third World dictators from their homes. Alas, most of us pampered Westerners will lack the same mental fortitude. And they say meat is murderous…