Review: Dickbutt – Dickbutt

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Marvel at an effortless masterwork of staggering deconstructionist brilliance.

“We aren’t even a “band”, it was just kind of the random freestyle/on the spot work of a friend and myself messing around.” – Brandon

That right there is the singular mission statement of a creative tour de force poised to tear the musical establishment to shreds. Dickbutt‘s Dickbutt cares not for your outdated labels or your obsolete genres reeking of mothballs and wet couch cushions. No my friends, Dickbutt is a band, nay, a musical juggernaut whose utter contempt for the status quo fuels a blinding fusion of raw unfettered musical expression that only conforms to audience expectations of song length and instrument choice as sheer mockery, an outright laughing desecration of everything you once held familiar and safe in your filthy, unenlightened peasant tunes, drowning in their hopeless puerility like drooling infants in an endless sea of tax forms.

 

How do you even classify that?

Perhaps grindcore/industrial/noise/punk/sludge/thrash/black metal/crust/d-beat/death/powerviolence grind? Meaningless, fucker! You stupid meaningless-thing-doing fuck! You cannot classify Dickbutt by Dickbutt. Dickbutt is here to raze your preconceived notions to rubble. Dickbutt is Mozart riding a missile aimed straight at your face. Dickbutt is a tsunami wave of middle fingers. Dickbutt is a lego brick under your foot with every step you take for the rest of your pointless life, because fuck you.

Dickbutt also has a video.

(NSFW warning: brief images of gore)

 

Heh, they’re called Dickbutt.

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