"The main reason for creating CROTCHDUSTER was our attempt to evade taxes. Of course, it would be more logical to say 'we decided to play music that nobody had played before us,' but that would be an unforgivable lie..." These are roughly the words that open the biography of the American trio CROTCHDUSTER on their official website. And while black metal types are preoccupied with religious reading, death metal folks with the school pet corner, and doom metallers with approaching autumn vitamin deficiency, CROTCHDUSTER are fixated on the problem of the posterior. Throughout the album, the caustic scale of scatological humor progresses along an exponentially rising curve. On the closing "Crotchopus," its tail reaches an unattainable infinity as the voice of a jaded Rocco Siffredi drones through the speakers: "I got balls..." Well, who would have doubted it. Setting aside the off-the-charts lyrical gags, the musical component of "Big Fat Box Of Shit" is a work of sheer genius. For example, in "Mammal Sauce," fleet-footed power metal with unpretentious punk vocals alternates with sunny, drawn-out Jamaican afternoon haze. "Jogging In Hell" is yet another synthesis of the most formulaic new wave, brick-heavy brutality, and a beautiful gothic piece. James Murphy (OBITUARY) helps the band on "Mr. Indignant Erection," while on "Stars Ingenious Cooter" you can hear DEATH/CONTROL DENIED drummer Richard Christy ("Hello, Dusseldorf! I, Richard Christy, welcome you to my beer festival. Drink beer, listen to music. Especially for you — CROTCHDUSTER!!!" After which follows a killer mix of DIMMU BORGIR and FRANKIE GOES TO HOLLYWOOD). Finally, the aforementioned "Crotchopus" concludes with a ten-minute ramble in the vein of a defunct radio request show... Whatever style the CROTCHDUSTER musicians tackle — be it grind or disco — they demonstrate the highest class in everything. One of the most successful parodies, in my opinion — of KING DIAMOND — even makes you shed a tear for those days when the maestro still wrote hits. Lastly, the cover art, executed in a mocking Beavis and Butt-Head style, once again underscores the supernatural individuality of this record. Summary: CARNIVAL IN COAL can take a seat...
