BY ANDREW MOODY
In today’s “woke” culture of outrage and identity politics, there is no longer a place for satirical rapcore band The Bloodhound Gang. After forming in the early nineties, the failure of their final album Hard-Off saw the Gang finally disband in 2015. Songs like Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny, I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks, You’re Pretty When I’m Drunk and A Lapdance is So Much Better When the Stripper Is Crying were a welcome relief from the Sheryl Crows and Spice Girls of 1996 when their second album One Fierce Beer Coaster capitalised on the post-grunge slacker generation.
Now they’d just be tweeted out of existence for misogyny, sexism, racism, homophobia and transphobia by the PC police. Pop punk/metal bands like Blink 182, Greenday and Limp Bizkit have managed to survive the post 9/11 politically-correct era, but the Gang delivered a refreshing attack on decency, their motto: NO REASON TO LIVE BUT WE LIKE IT THAT WAY. The lyrics (if not the music which experimented with electronica, drum machines, dinosaur rock and hip hop) were firmly wedged in the toilet, front man Jimmy Pop’s technically savvy ironic delivery of “I need to find a/ new vagina” from Three Point One Four always divides the audience.
In a review for their 1999 album Hooray for Boobies, All Music critic Stephen Thomas commented in exasperation: “On one hand, it’s easy to hate The Bloodhound Gang…on the other hand you almost have to admire the length that they go to be, well, defiantly stupid.”
Hooray For Boobies debuted on the Billboard Chart 200 at number 19, peaking at 14, spending 29 weeks on the chart based primarily on its smash hit single The Bad Touch: “You and me baby ain’t nuthin but mammals/ So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel”
But that’s not to argue that The Bloodhound Gang are literate geniuses and not frat boys using golden showers on stage and being protested by the UMPC Student Group Coalition for their song Yellow Fever. A particular lyrical nugget goes like this: Oh me Chinky/ she’s so kinky/ got me hot like Nagasaki/ burning up like napalm bursts like an A-bomb”.
Tanya Lee, their spokesperson said in 2000: “I can see they are merely a satirical group, however their songs are more damaging than satirical. They place minority groups back decades…”
If this was said in 2000, just imagine what would be said if they released Yellow Fever (which Geffen records prevented from appearing on One Fierce Beer Coaster) in 2019, the age of identity politics protest?
The Bloodhound Gang drank, smoked, fucked, pissed and defecated their way through their relatively brief time at the top. As Jimmy Pop once claimed: “Stephen King was a better writer when he drank.” This summarises their destructive rebel nature nicely, and also hints at Pop’s closely guarded belief in his own genius.
The Bloodhound Gang, as a group of Caucasian frat boys, satirised the very concept of the rock and roll band, never once letting the act drop. That the majority of their songs hold up in a way that other metal and hip hop acts from their era do not, is testament to the deceptively professional way they revelled in being a spanner in the works for as long as they could conceivably get away with. It’s hard to deny when listening to Fire Water Burn (co-opted by Michael Moore in his emotionally pornographic Fahrenheit 9/11) that they were far better musicians than they would ever admit. It would spoil the joke.
Follow Andrew Moody on Twitter @VoguishFiction