Review: The Wonderful World About Pigs, Horses & Clowns & Especially Dolly Parton

by
Lane Chasek

 
Picture from David Liebe Hart's Album Art

Detail from David Liebe Hart’s album cover art

 

If you were a weird kid (or adult) in the mid-2000s, you probably spent a lot of late nights watching Adult Swim. And if you were anything like me, you especially gravitated toward Tim & Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!, which often featured a puppeteer/musician/raconteur named David Liebe Hart. David is an outsider artist and national treasure who deserves just as much national treasure status as the likes of Dolly Parton, Bruce Springsteen, and Andy Warhol. But since the universe is a cruel, unfair place, David is forced to work in relative obscurity. But relative obscurity is better than total obscurity, and in my experience, obscurity often fosters much more interesting work than mass-marketed fame ever could.

David’s latest album, The Wonderful World About Pigs, Horses & Clowns & Especially Dolly Parton, is currently for sale on both vinyl and digital. Many of this album’s best tracks are delightful Trojan horses which, while ostensibly informing listeners about topics such as banana milk, Dolly Parton, and clowns of the 1960s, hurl you into unexpected, often unnerving territory. “Bacon & Ham” describes David’s love of bacon and ham and how he could never transition to vegetarianism. This pork-based ballad lulls you into a false sense of security which is promptly shattered like an impatient child’s piggy bank when David launches into a story about when he saw a male pig mount a female poodle in West Boston. This coupling (allegedly) resulted in pig-poodle hybrids, and as the song ends you’re left wondering if these offspring would be hypoallergenic, as well as whether they would possess canine intelligence with porcine loyalty or porcine intelligence with canine loyalty. Similarly, “Science” is told through the perspective of a scientist who develops life-saving medicines, but quickly segues into David describing his own Christian Science faith and the doctrine of healing through prayer. 

Hart’s specificity and tendency to fixate on topics such as aliens, ghosts, trains, and past flames is part of what gives his oeuvre that distinctive Hart charm. This often results in fans like me crawling through networks of rabbit holes in which I learn more about certain clowny sidekicks from Bozo’s Circus than I thought I’d ever want to know. If you’re someone who’s inquisitive to the point of obsessiveness, you may find Hart’s lyrics and subject matter to your liking.

If you’re a fan of outsider musicians like Daniel Johnston and Wesley Willis and have somehow never encountered David Liebe Hart, this would be a great album to start with. David and his producer Jonah also tour the U.S. and the U.K. from time to time (check their touring schedule for current dates), and if they happen to come to your city, definitely check them out. I had the opportunity to see David and Jonah live in 2018, and it was refreshing to meet a musician who was the same in-person as he was in all his songs and televised appearances. 

Outsider music appeals to people because it defies the glitz and polish of the mainstream studio, making for a musical experience that’s not just human but defiantly human. Hart stands out from such performers as Johnston and Willis because of the simple joy and optimism that shines forth in many of his songs. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Johnston and Willis, but the adolescent angst and defeatism of Johnston and Willis’s tragic battle with schizophrenia leave you feeling pretty damn melancholy by the time you finish listening to any of their albums. Hart, though in many ways just as eccentric as Johnston and Willis were, possesses a lust for life and pretty women (both Earthling and extraterrestrial) that gives you hope that the world (and the galaxy as a whole) isn’t such a bad place after all.

Lane Chasek (@LChasek) is the author of the nonfiction book Hugo Ball and the Fate of the Universe, the poetry/prose collection A Cat is not a Dog, and two forthcoming chapbooks, Dad During Deer Season and this is why I can't have nice things. Lane's current pride and joy is an essay he published in Hobart about Lola Bunny and the latest Space Jam movie.

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Sloppy Jane's Accidental Literary Moment

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Sloppy-Jane.jpg
 

The internet is flooded with unintentional works of literature. From tweets to memes to corporate ad copy, every piece of online writing possesses at least some small amount of literary value. Occasionally, you stumble upon a piece of random internet content that’s so good you almost want to print it out and put it on your bookshelf.

At one point, I collected a folder of unexpected works of literature—a sort of literary “found art” collection. One of my favorite pieces in the collection is this GoFundMe post by Haley Dahl, the lead singer of the band Sloppy Jane. The post is from a few years ago and, as of this writing, is still up on GoFundMe. So, the post still serves a practical, functional purpose. But aside from that, it’s possible to look at this post purely as a work of literature. And as a work of literature, it’s pretty great:

I WILL EAT MY FAVORITE SUIT FOR 20K

Howdy

I'm Haley Dahl, bandleader of NY/LA band "Sloppy Jane".

In the fall of 2017, I was heartbroken- over not one particular occurrence, but over everything at once. I struggled with expressing this, because it felt really typically girly to cry about my feelings in a way that I couldn't consolidate with my perception of myself.

One morning, I was having an emotional discussion about this heartbreak with an involved party, and I became so overwhelmed with the need to cry in public, but still couldn't really let it loose for these reasons. All of a sudden, I looked up and saw an oversized black suit hanging from an iron gate. I threw down my bags and put it on, and finally, I cried, knowing that I looked like a stylish Operatic Man, rather than a young woman covered in snot, I knew that my tears were the tears of a grown man, which made them uncomfortable to witness. I made a declaration:

"I'm going to wear this suit until it rots off my body."

I wore this suit for one calendar year to the date, every day, without washing it. I wore it to every show we played, I wore it to sleep, I wore it in the 20-some caves I visited while beginning to work on my bands next record (which is being recorded, in a cave).

I had to retire it before it rotted off my body, because a literal medical professional told me I had to stop wearing it for health reasons.

I still have the suit and have been trying to figure out how to properly send it off, and for 20K, I will eat it in it's entirety. (only caveat is I might burn it and eat its ashes).

If I receive 20k, I will post a video of myself eating the suit and the aftermath of eating the suit (still unwashed and partially rotting), in November 2019, following the recording of my cave record, which will be recorded in October.

I love you
Haley Dahl

Peter Clarke is the editor-in-chief of Jokes Review. He’s the author of the comic novels Politicians Are Superheroes and The Singularity Survival Guide. Follow him on Twitter @HeyPeterClarke.

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Stupid Lucifer! - Interview with Demon Wrangler

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Demon Wrangler Image.jpg 
It's like — “if the guy that built Salvation Mountain fronted Iggy & The Stooges.”

Sacramento-based musician Sam Eliot is known for his beautifully-crafted lyrics. He writes lines with the delicacy and insight of Leonard Cohen, the clever irony of Lou Reed. Here’s a typical Sam Eliot line, from his 2012 album, Monte Sereno:

 

“My love is as strong as the bars on the window
of a 24-hour liquor and lotto,
and I can let people in,
but it all depends on what exactly I’ve got
and what exactly you’re needin’.”

But this all changed with his latest project, a new band called Demon Wrangler.

“Demon Wrangler is not about songwriting at all,” he told me. “The songs are intended to be kind of stupid.”

This new project is such a departure from Sam’s previous work that you have to wonder if it’s a joke. It turns out, it is. But also, it’s not.

To get the full story behind the new band, I interviewed Sam via FaceTime as he walked around downtown Sacramento. The interview is below, lightly edited. But first, take a moment to enjoy Stupid Lucifer!

 
 

PETER CLARKE: The songs are all Christian. Is Demon Wrangler making fun of Christian music?

SAM ELIOT: That’s all in the eye of the observer. Even making it, there’s a part of me that’s like, this is fucking hysterical, and then there’s a part of me that is just dead serious about it. … This whole project just started vomiting out of me and I don’t really know what to make of it myself. I don’t know where the humor ends and the seriousness begins.

I grew up really religious, and it feels like a way to explore my own roots. … Outside of any Christian boundaries, the underlying thing behind a lot of the songs is a hyper contrast of forces—and championing the forces of light rather than the forces of dark.  

What initially inspired it? Did it start as a song that grew into album? And was it a joke that then became more serious? Or the other way around?

I was at the studio working on a song for one of my solo records. I had Mike Farrell in there laying down some guitar on it. And he had to go to rehearse with his other band, Th’ Losin Streaks, so he left. I was starting to break everything down and pack up to go home. But we had gotten this really great guitar sound. So I was like, I’m going to spend the next hour trying to make a song really fast. Just as an exercise. And I did that. I just laid down this crazy-ass drum beat, laid down this crazy-ass guitar, and then I grabbed the vocal mic and pressed play. I didn’t have anything written. I just started screaming into the mic, like, nonsense. And that was Stupid Lucifer. I recorded Stupid Lucifer in twenty minutes—from top to bottom and mixed it.

I remembered I finished it and was like, “What is this? What the fuck is this?” And as I was sitting there, everything just started clicking in my head. And I was just like, it’s as if Iggy Pop got really into Jesus but still did heroin. It’s this whole clashing thing. Like, people that are religious are going to hate this. And people that aren’t religious are going to hate this. And I was just like, “This is the best thing I’ve ever made.”

For three days after that, I couldn’t sleep. I was having this manic awakening. I just started getting force fed everything I needed to do for this Demon Wrangler thing. I went into the studio the next day and recorded two more songs just like that. 

It’s like the David Lynch thing: Creativity can be like fishing and you’re going for these big fish. And every once in a while you land a fish and you’re like, fuck, what kind of fish is this? It came out of you but it’s almost alien to you at the same time. That’s how the Demon Wrangler thing felt initially, where I’m getting a serious download from the universe.   

So you played all the instruments and everything?

Yeah.

 
Demon Wrangler Sam Eliot Interview.png
 

It’s funny because it doesn’t sound at all like you, but then again it’s like, this is definitely Sam. You haven’t tapped into this before, but it’s purely you.

It feels like I tapped into a deep unconscious part of the mind. And deep down you’re afraid of God; you’re afraid that all these wackado Christians are actually right and there are cosmic forces at play. And I believe that to a certain extent.

It’s definitely not a goof on people of faith of any kind. That’s definitely not my intention. More than anything my intention is to talk about taboo things. In our culture, religion is not fuckin’ Thanksgiving dinner conversation. It’s weird that at this point in history, you can talk about your pussy anywhere, but, dude, the punk rock boundary is talking about religion and faith and spirituality. … And religion undergirds our entire social fabric, so it’s like, gotta talk about this shit in a way that’s honest.

Your music has always done the Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan thing where you reference the Old Testament symbology. And this is almost like your New Testament symbology moment. Is that a fair observation?

I think it’s more explicitly about that… This whole first record, I’m trying to present some kind of cosmology that uses the language of religion in a broad sense but isn’t— I don’t know. I thought about shopping this whole thing as a kind of Christian rock band, but I felt that was kind of disingenuous.

Is Demon Wrangler now a band? Or is it a side project of Sam Eliot?

It’s as much a band as there can be a band in 2020, when you can’t play shows. … It is going to be something I’d like to do as a live band. … And at this point I don’t even know if Sam Eliot is a spinoff of Demon Wrangler. I don’t even know anymore.  

The Demon Wrangler project almost begs for an explanation in the sense that… Your first instinct is to ask: What the fuck is this? Is this a Christian record? Is this a Satanic record? Is this a mistake like someone pulled a Tommy Wiseau? Like they tried to make the most perfect record of all time, but then it was so bad that it’s good? It’s hard to tell. But that’s the beauty of it.

Yeah, in my mind, when this all started hitting me, this was like—if the guy that built Salvation Mountain fronted Iggy & The Stooges. Or like, you know, the worship leader at your Christian megachurch decided to eat a strip of acid two hours before service.

 
 

Follow Demon Wrangler on Spotify and Bandcamp. You can also follow Sam’s other musical ventures, Sam Eliot and Duke Chevalier.

Peter Clarke is the editor-in-chief of Jokes Review. He’s the author of the comic novels Politicians Are Superheroes and The Singularity Survival Guide. Follow him on Twitter @HeyPeterClarke.