James Whitcolm Riley. David Letterman. Jane Pauley. John Mellencamp. The Jackson 5. Larry Bird. And, of course, Dan Quayle.
These storied names represent just a fraction of the Hoosier State's contributions
to the world of arts and entertainment. Today, we add to that distinguished list Schereville's own lords of regressive manure metal, Stump.
If you've got 31 minutes and 14 seconds to listen to testosterone-driven death metal with a touch of coprophillia and smidge of autoeroticism, this is the shit for you.
This three-piece ensemble -- lead by the Great Poodini on vocals and guitars -- sounds like a blending of The River Bottom Nightmare Band from Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas (turned up to eleven) and the ever-mighty Butt Trumpet. You're just as likely to find Sump's album "Holy Shit" at the local Wal-Mart as you are at an Amish swap meet in Shipshewana.
The album opens with Flusher Gusher, a pleasant little ditty that evokes images of prison rape and dismemberment. My other favorites include Shit or Swallow and Feeding the Shit-Eating Dead. After a strong beginning, the album drifts off, but ends with an almost-catchy tune, Anally Induced Feedbag, that fades out, leaving this listener to wonder if he hadn't missed something.
While the Great Poodini claims that the band just learned to play their instruments in 2001, Stump is one tight trio musically -- winding their way through some impressive riffs and melodies that had my head banging. While there are no guitar solos, Count Crapula blew me away with his double bass prowess in Shit or Swallow, and Excrementor shows some solid bottom end action throughout the album.
Stump has written some impressive lyrics. My favorite are found in Fecalphilliac:
"A turtle equipped with riot gear pokes his head from my sore ass. A mercenary sent to barge the gates and let the army pass. These flatus-filled movements would fill up a small lake. I pack my crap in to a casserole dish and bake a shit bunt cake."
Stump's use of literary terms such as "flatus", "redolent" and "regurgitate" lead this reviewer to suspect that these guys were raised in God-fearing suburban Hooiser homes. Perhaps they grew up paying attention to their English Literature instructor and rebelling by playing Dungeons and Dragons. But hey, Tommy Lee started out in ballet.
Admittedly, I had trouble getting past the growling and shouting vocals and the overuse of some obscure -- though occasionally fitting -- samples from what sounds like a gangbanger flick. But once you do, you realize that Stump's shit-powered death metal makes you think pleasant thoughts of necrophillia and anal rape. This is the perfect blend of violence, feces and rock solid riffs. It took a few listens, but "Holy Shit" actually grew on me.
Someday, Schereville, Indiana will be known more than just the "Crossroads of the Nation". I give "Holy Shit" a hearty flush. Three wipes out of five. Not bad for a first album.
-- Chip Brown is the former president of the Beer Softened Stool fan club.
