Way back on Heavy Vegetable's second astonishing album, Frisbie, Rob Crow(lately of Pinback, for the most part) defended his distaste for the radio by listing stuff they never played on it: Slint, Sentridoh, Zappa, Beefheart, Can, The Residents, VU. See any metal in that list? Neither do I. Was Rob Crow managing to hear some metal anyhow? You bet your ass. Is Goblin Cock as "joke-metal" as it sounds like it should be? Just about. Its chugging, Tolkien-core centerpiece is an ode to "Kegrah the Dragon Killer". Plus the liner notes include lyrics written in runes.
Goblin Cock never quite goes Spinal Tap, though; this is by no means your simple "Metal is pretty funny" put-down record. There was always a seriousness of chops and a whiff of that gloriously bloated prog- and/or death-metal surrounding 90s-Crow projects Heavy Vegetable and Thingy, and Bagged and Boarded is the noxious encroaching cloud that whiff's blossomed into over the years. If faux-classical acoustic guitar and synth on "Hissy (Intro)" is the go-nowhere warmup to some magnum opus, then "Stumped" (like the bulk of Bagged and Boarded) must be Really Heavy Vegetable, with Crow's practiced nasal yelp thinly breaking through the band's mutant-Sabbath dirge. Speaking of twisted Black Sabbath descendants, the Queens of the Stone Age quotient's equally high on "Childproof"; it's got excruciating old sex-ed film reel samples that reaffirm the "cock" theme with 50s Dad-to-son explanations of the old, shall we say, equipment and what sometimes comes out of it while male teens dream, recalling a certain porn interlude on Dr. Octagon's Dr. Octagonecologyst. "Gee, our bodies are complicated, aren't they Dad?" It's hard not to laugh and cringe simultaneously.
Great Uncle GWAR would be so proud. Lord Phallus, Bane Ass-Pounder, King Sith, Braindeath, and keyboardist Loki Sinjuggler drop that imaginary line between humor and horror down front and center, forcing listeners to straddle it with them. On "Revenge of Snufalufagus", "Sesame Street'"s gentle Snufalufagus directs his murderous, vengeful bloodlust toward Mr. Hooper and/or Big Bird. "The Werewomb"-- Cannibal Corpse outtake though that may sound-- is about the closest the record comes to unearthing a nugget of vintage mid-90s Crow. "Winkey Dinky Donkey" (not a Raffi cover, amazingly) might hold that same distinction but for its opening minute of double-tracked vocals and riffs that, melodically, live right next door to Metallica's ...And Justice For All.
What I can't do is honestly recommend any of this to your strict Pinbackers or serious metalheads in want of some inroad into either indie or Rob Crow's byzantine bandscape. The somewhat brittle production, dearth of any blast beat/guitar screed overkill, and lax musicianship will offend a good deal of those hardened listener's ears even if Goblin Cock's upfront skewering of metal's silliest conventions fails to. As comic book collectors will recognize the moment they read the album title, a sense of humor going in is utterly, 100% required.
One glance at the cover sears this image into your retina: Goblin Cock as iconic heavy metal D&D; bad guy's purply veined phallus. The band's name is also a sly pun on the performance of enthusiastic fellatio. Still, it's just as funny to picture Goblin Cock as the biggest, meanest, ugliest armored black rooster in the history of Things Frank Frazetta Never Got Around to Painting, and a leather-clad Rob Crow strumming distorted power chords to the rhythmic fall of his steed's ghastly red talons.
