Sub-Genius themed sound collages

Produced & composed by Trippo Marx
Recorded 1990-2003 Mixed 2001-2003 Remixed 2002-2019
Released August 17th 2003
© 2003-2019

MAYBE, MAYBE NOT (15:01)
Part 1 Baby Barf On Pasta
Part 2 Mars Needs Glorps
Part 3 Morrison Hotel Paint Thinner Fumes
Part 4 Heavy Habafropzipulops Trance
Part 5 Dance Of The Goat Sodomizers
Part 6 Other Types Of Pollution
CHURCH OF THE PERFECT FIT (6:37)
WHISKER BISCUITS (4:15)
WATER BALLET OF THE SNOPRELEP PUHTORKUS (5:29)
BLEEDING HEAD GOOD, HEALED HEAD BAD (3:30)
STUMPFKDAZE 1 (3:19)
STUMPFKDAZE 2 (3:00)
STOP GLOBAL NORMING (3:26)
PLANET OF THE PINK BOYS (9:29)
SELLIN' ICE WATER IN HELL (15:00)
Part 1 Caravan
Part 2 Descent
Part 3 Inferno
Part 4 Crossing
Part 5 Pitch
Part 6 Exile
YOUR THIRD NOSTRIL SHOULD BE OPEN BY NOW (3:09)

TRIPPO MARX guitar synths drum machine bass percussion
with THE IMPROMPTU REVERENDS OF THE CHURCH OF THE PERFECT FIT
REV. F. U. MIDDLEFINGER voices guitar REV. MAYBE-MAYBENOT voices REV. DESI BELMONDO voices REV. MEEKUS MOBLEY voice REV. TRIXTER SHAMAN voice REV. A. MONGUS voices REV. BABBIT voice bass REV. PRIDE voice REV. PENOIR PENWISE coughing REV. MANNHEIM JOINT ROLLER bass

Bleeding Head Good, Healed Head Bad was contructed from an assortment of lo-fi recordings made between 1990-1994 relating in some vague way to the Church of the Sub-Genius. It consists of double-speed guitar improvisations and demos, portions of the 1992 X-Day Devival in Austin, Texas, and other random episodes of chaotic madness recorded on a handheld microcassette recorder, as well as a handful of unfinished pieces from 4-track cassettes, all digitally spliced and diced together with drum loops and other overdubs into a mutant collage of Slack-Infused Bulldada designed for the most esoteric Sub-Genius Earholes, presented and narrated by the impromptu Reverends of the Church of the Perfect Fit.

Sellin’ Ice Water In Hell (A Sub-Genius Fairy Tale): A group of Bobbies form a Caravan to Hell, ostensibly for the purpose of cornering the very lucrative ice water market. The Descent is dangerous and harrowing and many are lost. The few remaining Bobbies arrive in the Underplace to find that it is naught but a raging Inferno and that Hell Itself lies beyond the Great And Mighty Flaming River Of Tortured Souls And Wantonly-Dispersed Bodily (Not Necessarily Human) Fluids. A long and treacherous Crossing must be made, and the caravan is heralded at near and far fiery shores by a thundering blast from the disturbingly phallic Satanic Saxophone. The Bobbies reach Hell Itself at last and somehow manage to gain enough Slack to arrange an audience with Pitch, who, having been on the losing end of one of J. R. “Bob” Dobbs’ “business opportunities” one too many times, summarily sends the whole caravan of Pink Bobbie Assholes into an eternal Exile, leaving them doomed to roam the Underplace forever without hope of Slack or Salvation. Can I get a Praise “Bob”?