Music: Chainsaw Penis - Disregard Females; Acquire Chainsaws

It had been nine months and seven days since I last had a run in with extreme “Shit-Core” metal band Chainsaw Penis, a day which I will never forget.

It was a Thursday. I had intended to feed the dog but instead found a ransom note pinned to the fridge, a copy of their first album in the mutt's bowl – minus one fur bag of fleas. C.P. wanted a review of their first album “50 Shades of Shit”. As requested/demanded, if I was ever to see my dog again, I wrote the review over one harrowing week. Their music was so God damn awful that it caused actual internal bleeding, stomach cramps and uncontrollable bowel discharge – as if my internal organs were trying to flee my body to escape the dirge of Satan's arse-hole itself, but via mine.

True to their word they did return my well loved mongrel in “near” perfect physical condition. Her mental state however is questionable. The day after the review went live I found her sleeping soundly on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own vomit, wearing a dog-sized Chainsaw Penis band shirt (the red lettering almost completely illegible and resembling Spider-Man’s crusty, blood-soaked cum hanky (see above)), one ear pierced with a half empty bottle of White Lightning tipped into her bowl. The cheap cider overflowed, merging with her rancid smelling stomach bile. A scrap of paper, taped to her forehead, translated into English from the deranged scrawling of illiterate madmen (something in the manner of a serial killer’s note, salvaged from letters cut from The Metro), read:

“That dog knows how to party!
Your review was shit/awesome*.

We WILL be in touch.

C.P.”

I've changed the locks.

Five weeks ago I received a copy of their latest album 'Disregard Females; Acquire Chainsaws'. I didn't ask for it. I didn't want it. I wanted nothing to do with it. It just slipped through the letter box and plopped onto the rug (like a surprise shit when in excess of drinking). Yesterday I received a note...

“Bitch, review our album or we'll come over for tea. Love and kisses, C.P. x x x”

Here's my review of C.P.'s latest attempt at audio genocide - “Disregard Females; Acquire Chainsaws”!

This “band” consists of five main culprits. The haphazard, sixty-a-day blended into cat-in-a-gutter “vocal” styling and ocarina twiddle-de-twomp of front man Francis “Frank” Power. The powerfisted over-enthusiasm of “drummer” Laurie “Pop-Eye” Pooley. The finger-frantic fondling of bassist Jon “The Dafternator” Dafter. The ghastly guitar tantrum of Adam “Todgerson” Rogerson (the latest addition to this motley troop’s ongoing war against good taste and human decency)... and finally a ginger Brummie X-Factor reject with a massive forehead. He might be homeless, or a Stockholm syndrome victim of C.P.s. or something. I don't know. He’s called Liam (or Llama or whatever) “Ninehead” Nash, murders the guitar and is responsible for the riffs on this shiny new coffee coaster of an album.

They should be proud of what they have birthed. I would be if I was certain my creation would be the swansong of civilisation and culture.

You can listen to their album for free here. 'DisregardFemales; Acquire Chainsaws'“ is their second compilation of insane blabbing and nails-to-chalkboard style carcrash-cum-harmony. Well, they might not have improved their… no, they just have not improved. And no, the fact that over their previous “work” you can now discern some of the lyrics owing to the terrible balancing issues is definitely NOT a bonus.

In rating this horror and inspired by last year’s "Dulux Shit Colour Chart" system, I am proud to introduce to you "THE CAGE GAUGE!"

1. Intro (Barbara Fran): An excellent example of how not to start an album. Sadly it's a good reflection of the albums quality – irritating, nonsensical, repetitive and badly edited.

"The Hairy Angel!" Cage

2. Arise: “Inspired” by Game of Thrones – that misogynistic, racist T.V. show that recently surprised everyone by having people die in it (what a brilliant twist!). A drum beat (congratulations to Laurie for being able to tap his foot and hit a snare drum at the same time). Francis is inaudible. Guitarist Adam shows potential. Best composed track on the album (and that's not saying much).

Fantasti- Cage

3. Baby...: This track guest features 1970s stop-animation super-stars The Clangers; who must have run out of space money for their moon coke orgies in order to work with this band of dog scrotums. A piss-poor attempt at covering Justin Beiber’s “Baby” which is only slightly more tolerable than the stomach-churning original. The fact they even endeavoured to cover this song screams they are not well.

Baby Cage

4. … In A Blender: About a baby in a blender. The death of music.

Baby-sitter Cage

5. Cagezilla Vs. Mecha-Saville: Introduction stirs sadly brilliant mental images of a disturbing apocalyptic show-down in Tokyo between two internet heavy weights; Nicolas Cage and Jimmy Saville. One punched a women whilst dressed as paedo-bear and the other is a bare faced paedo.

Cage rage

6. Castle Gayskull: A much welcomed and pointless interlude featuring He-Man's Skelitor in a bath tub fan-wanking over Chainsaw Penis, with Beastman. Mildly entertaining but lacking in satisfaction. Like wanking in the bath.

Y. M. C. A. G. E

 7. Masterbating in a Moshpit: Who hasn't done this? I have. You have too, don't try denying it! Sometimes when I was a teen in da club we used to masterbate together as a group. Otherwise known as a 'mosh-splosh circle-jerkle'. I don't know what I'm talking about any more. This track is to your ears what a up-turned plug is to the foot.

Classic sar -Cage

8. The Empty Feeling After Having A Poo: Refreshingly devoid of content. Just like my bowls.

Bloc-Cage

10. Public Transport Boner: Obvious influences of David Bowie and John Lennon's 'Imagine'. I hope both their estates sue. A love song, possibly. Audible, barely. And just like public transport this track comes along in the album far too late, stinks of piss and is not worth the money paid for.

Imagine Cage (actually, don't)

11. I'M A VAMPIRE!: Apparently they're vampires (so's Nicolas Cage).

Dra-Cage

12. Bread: WTF is this?! The demented ramblings of a Saladfingers-esq nutter-crumb who fell down a well, or not. Who cares? Completely asinine. Favourite track on the album; no instruments are played and I can fully empathize with characters mental instability.

What the fu- Cage.

13. Turbononce: A no non-sense song about Lost Prophet's frontman Ian Watkins' alleged noncing. Pay no cents for this.

Womb Cage (This is distressing)

14. Crisps Are Shit: Noise.

(How'd It Get) Burned Cage

15. Epic Ocarina Guy: I feel like this track has driven me to P.T.S.D. Four notes for four minutes that feels like four hours but will NEVER. LEAVE. YOUR. BRAIN. I will die on my dead bed lightly whistling this tune.

That being said...

The final thirty seconds however had me in stitches of delight! A wonderful out-of-the-blue comical reference in homage to the Father Ted song “My Lovely Horse”. Should have been a full track of its own. Too bad the band are too stupid to recognize what NOT to hide away at the arse end of their albums. C.P. have trolled their audience by having genuine fun ideas and not fully sharing them. Their best and only chance at hitting main stream and they f**ked it. Again.

Thing is, this is a picture of a normal rabbit. I've done NOTHING to this picture. It's YOU that's gone 'Cage Gauge'!

Overall, C.P. have attempted to reduce an centuries old art into a bastard mockery. Their quality has improved in the same way that malaria has improved it's resistance to antibiotics. They'd drag the music industry down further with them if they were not already touching rock-bottom (and drilling deeper). Talentless, bottom-of-barrel scraping trolls of the metal world; I wish they'd stayed under their bridges.

The first time I attempted to review a C.P. album my body responded by haemorrhaging, violent convulsions and sporadic amnesia. This time has not been so rough (though my dog only sleeps whilst listening to Metallica). Perhaps I am developing a immunity to their foulness? Hell, I even LIKED one of their tracks. This is not normal human behaviour. I must seek psychiatric attention immediately! I'd suggest the band have themselves sectioned too, but they'd only take it as a compliment.

-V. Blackwell.

* Suspect both words are interchangeable for C.P.