A totally bonkers cut-up record.. It's jokey title and the abundance of plastic cocks on the label of this CDR might perhaps lead you to expect something else (though what , I'm not exactly sure), when in fact this is a lively and entertaining 'art' piece, composed entirely of utterly fragmented samples - or as they would have it, 'recycled music'. Nearest thing I could compare it with would be the notorious Bladder Flask experiment (recently reissued), but this record is, if anything, far more stupid and abrasive in its relentless onslaught. No real development of 'ideas' as such, just a continual and perpetual stream of rubbish heaped up in silly and meaningless collisions, and let the devil take the hindmost. Well, actually that's not true, because there is a discernible structure behind the apparent 'mayhem' that first greets your ears, if you can just get into it. Certainly a lot funkier (by which i mean very stinky) than some forays in this area, and has a certain vulgarity to it, which grows on you...mostly vulgarity in the siliness of the noises, some of which resemble blowing raspberries or farting...this record is like being teased by silly little children poking their tongues out at you. Or mocked by subnormal loons yawping and roaring and throwing their hands in the air. Unsettling in some ways. Quite an energetic attack is unleashed, particularly for the first 15 minutes...a warehouse full of samples, spewed out with little concern for any sense of linearity, unity, or simple good taste. Originally issued as a CDR with a witty but sicko sleeve by PsychoChrist productions of Seattle, in very limited limited numbers, this 100 copy reissue enables a few more people to reconnect with that obscure project, whose perpetrator (it was conceived and directed by 'Srad Tene,) had something to say about religious envangelism in the USA...a small section near the end of the first, long track contains much sneering at these hypocritical false prophets, or at least a total distortion of their 'messages' through tape-fuckery. Isn't this sort of thing a bit passe now? Still, the Tape Beatles still get away with it...at any rate the treatment of voices in this long track - called simply 'Broken part 1' - is particularly effective in the way it passes on feelings of alienation and disconnectedness. I was pleased to encounter not a single familiar record or recognisible music source in all of their cutting-up activity, and was musing gently on how I find I still don't have much time for John Oswald and his Plunderphonics. His work of singling out specific moments of recognisable music to reassemble is positively artistic in comparison to the Broken Penis Orchestra, who seem to treat everything as part of the same garbage pile, and then regard it all as fair game for abuse (or self-abuse, judging by the title). Then i reached track three, which reminded me muchly of early Mothers of Invention records (the wild use of varispeed, for example) - and indeed bits of Lumpy Gravy itself are clearly audible in here, along with the Dick Kunc-created 'snork' sound. At one time this pilferage might have annoyed me, but here it sounds perfectly in sync with Zappa's original aims and contributes greatly to this record. In all, the remorseless 'pile-it-on' approach of this record reminds me of a half-remembered passage in Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, where some guy is force-fed all kinds of exotic foodstuffs while blindfolded, and his mind reeling with the bizarre tastes and textures, hopes for the best...this music appears to be chaotic, but it's deep programming strategy is evidence that it is far from formless. The more things they break and smash in their 'Broken' symphonies, the more patterns of thought they release. Very good. - THE SOUND PROJECTOR (UK)

On this stimulating work, every sample known to man and magog can be found, and over the four tracks it rarely loses it's vibrancy - not something I usually find myself saying with 'difficult' releases. 'Plays With Itself' kicks off with a barrage of rapid-fire samples (church bells, sirens, electronic squiggles) before settling into a short sax/rhumba piece that morphs into industrial klunk which leads into what sounds like The Boredoms at 100rpm. From there it weaves it's way through NWW territory, Dada, Hitchcock, ad era Raymond Scott, in fact this one small disc could be the entire history of 20th century music melted down for instant gratification. Track four 'Floating In A Sea Of Bliss' should get Steve Stapleton back in the studio making interesting music and not the slop he churns out now. It's constantly shifting samples over a grasshopper buzz are comparable to, if not better than, prime 'Nurse'. Dada, Duchamp & Marinetti all live in it's digital grooves. It's a magnificent release and one which I shall return to. - IDWAL FISHER (UK)

Breakneck collage which is by turns funny, thrilling and sickeningly intense. The bulk of the album is taken up with the two part "Broken", a 30 minute cartoon assault of vertiginous switchback edits, lightning bolts of noise, loops spun inwards, outwards and upside down, and gratuitous FX abuse. The shorter "Half A Glass Of Nothing" unfolds at a more manageable pace, creating a classical modernist pastiche with what sounds like Cage or Berio samples and various acoustic rustlings and rumblings, while the abrasive and irreverent "Floating On A Sea Of Bliss" returns to the noisier strategies of the lead track. There's nothing here that Australia's Severed Heads weren't doing 25 years ago, but it's all executed with undeniable panache. - THE WIRE (UK)