Things are getting dada! If you haven't been tipped off by the name of the band, or the name of the album, or your knowledge of the label, then let me spell it out for you. This is some fucked-up shit.
The arrangements are riffy, repetitive, and not afraid to use a slide whistle or a bit of hobo scatting. "Headache For Sisyphus" not only has one of the best song titles I've heard in a couple of years, but also alternates a propulsive beat and a creepy chorus of tiny voices, all to a quasi-tropical Casio beat. "4AM Coffee Song" features the customer those all-night donut shops fear the most. "Naked Lady Wrestler" is full of amazement and admiration for you know the rest. The harpy vocals seem to always veer on the edge of driving me nuts, and I'll admit than I'm an unusually tolerant person.
Still, this echoes of Mr. Quintron, The Boredoms, that comedy bit Margaret Cho does about her mother, a heavily medicated Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, and all manner of deviant influences which I've been lucky enough to not know. Disturbing, distressing, but ultimately loads of fun.
Kurt Channing
Ass-tastic. There's some weird shit in this city, but there's nothing as weird as Ass Baboons of Venus. Forever banned from Japanese TV for completely demolishing a set during a live show (and also for talking with their anuses), the Ass Baboons of Venus quite literally know how to party. Japanese comedienne Naoko Nozawa and her husband, Bob Limp – whose titles include Anal Emperor, Corn-hole Captain, and Ass-King – play totally bent punk spazz with dinky noises, metal guitar licks, and many, many lyrics about feces.
(Mike McGuirk. S.F. Bay Guardian)
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