Beer Softened Stool The Brown Album Rat Wacker Welcome To The Retard Ball Sensitive Gay Lover Retards Make Good Friends Can't Find a Rubber To Fit Me I Need An Enema Craptacular (click to download mp3s)

A nice Grungy start, the lead track appealed greatly to me as a "Rat Wacker" myself. You see, I have a pet Boa Constrictor and feed him rats. Over the years me my roommates have employed various methods of Rat Wacking including "Simulated Car Crash". "Hockey Stick slam to the spine". "Wrist shot against the wall" or the old "squeeze him til his eyes pop out". [Side note: Snakes eat rats...poop and all.]

Anyways, back to the review, it's probably better to play this album loud and when you're drunk and angry too. It'll be better that way.

After the solid opening track's surprising quality, the album seems to squish and splatter a bit. Talking about shit is one thing, but picking on retards is another and there I think they've gone too far with Retards Make Good Friends and Welcome To The Retard Ball. I think about my fraternity brothers who told stories about how they used to fuck this retard and now that's the one thing, above all else, that I associate them with on those few moments when I think of them.

One has control (for the most part) over one's own shit, but you have no control over whether or not you're retarded. Nonetheless, BSS keeps it real with some dead on impersonations and retard sound samples, for whatever that's worth.

Their admirable beer fueled punk/grunge/garage sound would probably receive kudos from JFA (Jodie Fosters Army) and The Replacements, but too often I found myself thinking "watered down version of The Cult" or "Toni Iomi (ex-Black Sabbath gee tarist) is alive and well somewhere" or that the lead singer was just a poor man's Axl Rose in a crappy marriage.

Surprisingly, there are no fart samples, self stool analysis or fecal freak flag waving songs. Hey, at least these small-dicked white boys have a realistic sense of self when they penned the "Can't Find a Rubber to Fit Me"...not that any girl (or guy) would sleep with these losers anywyas. The classical music samples and Shakespeare reference/samples show a glimmer of intelligence and class so maybe there's still hope, who knows.

Rather than a nice big clean Ka-ploosh, the album merely drizzles out at the end with an overly long confusing version of Craptacular. You'd think that for guys this obsessed with fecal materials that Craptacular would indeed be splendor, yet it's merely the expected "shitty" definition we all expect.

All in all I give it three wipes. A little bit messy, but mostly solid...in a Midwestern JV garage punk beer fueled introspective kinda way. Rock on Shitheads!!!
-- Benedict Arnold

This review is the opinion of PoopReport's resident cultural critic, and does not necessarily reflect the views of anyone else. Lighten up.

 

A REBUTTAL FROM BEER SOFTENED STOOL: RAT WHACKER... Rat Whacker was the very first tune that BSS wrote. Mr. Fecal wrote the lyrics and sent them to Dick who put it to music (like Elton John and Bernie Taupin). It's pretty much their magnus opus. According to Mr. Fecal, the idea behind rat whacker dates to his days with Eye Fart Productions. Fecal raised female rats for pets and male rats to feed to his roomate's boa. Anyway, he fed one of the pregnant females large quantities of Milwaukee's Best every night that Fecal was drinkin just to watch the drunken pregnant rat fall over (you aren't with PETA are you?) Anyway, before you know it the baby rats were born and several of them were suffering from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and had deformed skulls so that their teeth were misaligned. The teeth just kept growing until the rats could no longer eat. Fecal's compasion for wildlife led him to euthanize the rats, but he wanted to save the skulls for his skull collection. Thus, non-impact methods of rat whacker were attempted to various degrees. (RETARDS...TRUE STORY) As far as retards go the guy on the cover is an old friend of the band, Marc. Just for kicks, Marc and Mr. Fecal used to get drunk and go to the supermarket wearing hockey helmets and acting like tards (chicks dig it). Marc was a budding young slum lord in Saginaw MI and he purchased several crack houses for back taxes. One afternoon he was on his way to one of the houses to collect rent and BAAAAMMM, his car was broad sided by A Saginaw Transit Bus doing 50 mph! Marc was in a coma for several weeks. When he came out of it he had brain damage and require some intensive physical and occupational therapy. All throughout his recovery he understood the irony of his situation and actually played up being retarded when he was in his wheelchair. He said, "what the fuck. If people are gonna look at me as the freak in the wheel chair, I'll give em show". Marc gotta pretty weird after that and has been holed up somewhere hating his family and listening to a lot of Joe Satriani stuff. The way, BSS figures it, Marc would have wanted his story told through BSS. The retard songs are more about irony than anything else. Mr. Fecal is actually a huge Replacements fan so he appreciates your comments. Dick blames part of the bands "watered down" sound on their pop metal/Ted Nugent musical upbringing. -- Beer Softened Stool