Three 65, Day 29
Butthole Surfers, Locust Abortion Technician

I'm feeling pretty sick, and I want to review something that closely matches how I feel. The Butthole Surfers' Locust Abortion Technician should do nicely.

One of three Butthole Surfers albums to be named using random wordplay, Locust is also the finest distillation of the Surfers' sound, which is basically the kind of music a kid would make if he were: a) genuinely gifted; and b) tripping on large amounts of acid. Which is all a roundabout way of saying the Surfers had great amounts of talent... and illegal drugs.

"Sweat Loaf" kicks things open ferociously, like a demented hobo blowing the door off a southern speakeasy. It's basically a cover of Black Sabbath's "Sweet Leaf," but that's only a touchstone, really. Just dig the opening lyrics: "Well, son, a funny thing about regret is, it's better to regret something you have done than to regret something you haven't done. And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend, would you be sure and tell her... Satan! Satan! Satan!"

"Graveyard" appears twice on this record, first as a slowed-down sludgefest and then, near the end, as a country-punk rumination on death. "U.S.S.A." is a trudge through the fucked-up backwaters of punk rock, with the band trading riffs and squeals with vocalist Gibby Haynes' ranting. (It also features the scariest guitar note... ever.) "The O-Men" pretty much defines everything brilliant and stupid about charging industrial rock, and "Kuntz" is an Eastern radio jingle warped out of true by the band's studio prowess. Add to this "Human Cannonball," a simple and pretty pop song that sounds tossed-off in comparison to the rest of the work here, and you've got yourself one sick motherfucking album.