Trout Mask Replica

I have a strange friendship.  Deep down, we love each other and it’s the bromance to end all bromances. But we pretend we hate each other, and take a bit too much pleasure from it.  I am shocked to still be allowed (let alone welcome) in his parents’ house after forcing him to take me there when I was tripping balls.  It’s a special kind of hatred where we torture each other emotionally, physically and sometimes musically.  This is where Captain Beefheart comes in.

 

In case you didn’t know, Captain Beefheart is a guy who makes music.  Terrible, terrible music.  For some reason, some people love it and call it genius.  Those people are likely insane, and should be avoided at all costs because Trout Mask Replica (capitalised to further glorify this masterpiece) is the worst album either of us have ever listened to.  And we listen to some real shit.  I bought this album for my friend and told him to listen to it because it’s brilliant.  At this point, I had never listened to it.  I just lied.  The next time I saw him, he was asking why I thought it was brilliant so I told him tracks 6 and 7 really bring it together.  He foolishly revisited them, and I was subsequently commanded to stop being a lying cunt and actually listen to it, because there’s only so long you can lie about liking Trout Mask Replica. 

 

If you think calling this the worst album ever made is an understatement, you need to listen to it.  From start to finish.  You will not reach the finish.  You will turn that shit off by track 3 or 4.  If you make it past track 9, you are strange human being and I would question your judgement.  If you had children, I would pity them.  Anyone who makes it to the finish should win a benzene bath.

 

We have yet to come across anything quite so awful as Trout Mask Replica, and it’s been around 10 years since the incident.  In the process we have discovered some fantastic musical gems (Magma, Space Ritual by Hawkwind, Bob Dylans’ Christmas Album) but still nothing as harrowing as Captain Beefheart.  Neither of us has heard the whole album.  We seriously tried, but it’s beyond bad.  Captain Beefheart is to music what Walter White is to teaching high school chemistry.  I can’t even call him names.  10 years and counting since musical torture reached it’s peak.  I’m actually impressed.

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About harrypeat

I'm a happy-go-lucky chap with a zest for life and the resting heart rate of a yellowfin tuna. I love long walks on the beach at dusk, paintings of elderly couples, and vegan dinners by candlelight. As well as being a talented rhythmic jazz guitarist, I am a part-time vblogger and all-round gymnast.
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