One of the roughest, rawest musicians of our time, Seth Putnam, has passed. The 43-year-old instigator of the visceral grindcore act Anal Cunt died of a heart attack on Saturday.
Outside of those who regularly imbibe in music that throttles listeners to the brink of complete exhaustion and frustration, Anal Cunt was little more than a record store clerk's punch line since its inception in 1988. With loud, offensive, and far too short songs with his main outfit and an impressive list of side projects like Vaginal Jesus, Full Blown A.I.D.S., and Cuntsaw, this dude was not trying to keep the status quo by any means.
Crossfade writer Matt Preira writes in great depth and probably more thoughtfulness than we could manage about this man, who lived nastily (especially during a wild Churchill's show in 2007) but ultimately by his own punk rock rules.
Another important read: Jess Harvell's excellent rundown of Putnam's career for Village Voice's "Sound of the City." "He made Tyler, the Creator look like both a total piker and a Louis-Ferdinand Céline-grade genius," he writes.
But we're talking like 10 percent of the output of a band who thought aSo, not an entirely sympathetic read, on the whole. But then again, did the guy who wrote
good lyrical gag was talking about showing up to a Hootie and Blowfish
concert in Klan robes. Shock humor has value, but it's tough to make a
case for it when it's as repetitive and artless as Anal Cunt's. The
other 90 percent of the time A.C. weren't "taboo-breaking" so much as
straight-up indefensible bullshit. Seriously, this is the guy who wrote
reams of outright misogyny like the supremely awful and in no way
comedic "Women, Nature's Punching Bag." And really, fuck that.
"You're a Trendy Fucking Pussy" really give a shit what we journos think?