'Yoga To Metallica' And 10 Other Albums You Never Knew You Needed

Spotify is a place ripe for exploration. Think about it, it’s a free, culturally-dominant streaming service where any ambitious artistic hopeful can upload their life’s work hoping to strike it big in cyberspace. This means you can type any weird combination of words into the search bar and something super esoteric will almost always come up. Spotify is a haven for people who follow their muse down some really, really questionable paths. But that’s a good thing! The world is a better place when poetic madness is in arm’s reach, and it certainly makes me feel more anthropologically enriched. So here are a few of the more bizarre things I’ve found in my never-ending quest to fully grasp the internet’s ridiculous imagination.

I have absolutely no idea who Randall Cousins is, but I bet he is pretty good at parties. The dude rocks the theremin. If you don’t know what a theremin is, it’s the thing that makes the weird ghost sound in “Good Vibrations.” But man, Cousins isn’t nearly as modest; he throws his warbled, dog-whistle squeals over everything from twangy, GarageBand coffeeshop-rock to spaced-out Enya orbits. It’s like he’s trying to showcase all of the potential uses of the worst instrument in the world.

I have no fucking idea what this is. It appears to be something of an audiobook where a few dudes (who are collectively “The Click”) tell you how to make it in the music industry. So basically, that means it’s a few rappers you have never heard of giving you business advice. Also E-40 is involved somehow. My favorite part is when they tell you tithing will make you successful.

Okay, you probably already know what this is thanks to its ridiculously specific title, but it’s actually somehow dumber than you might think! It’s not slack-jawed mixtape cast-offs rapping over phony Lynyrd Skynyrd instrumentals, it’s one slack-jawed mixtape cast-off literally reading off the lyrics of the song over phony Lynyrd Skynyrd instrumentals. No improvisations, no rhymes or ruses or anything—there’s nothing hip-hop about this album outside of the fact that the dude is ostensibly black. Also, the echo effect he uses for his version of “Free Bird” is one of the greatest things of all time.

Real talk, we used to have this CD in my college radio station, and it got way more plays than it should have. It’s nothing surprising, just 39 tracks of animals making sounds (track 23, “Cat Purr & Snore,” is a BANGER,) but there’s something deeply profound about a single man self-recording and self-releasing an album of him putting microphones near Peacocks for 49 seconds. By the way, to any aspiring college DJs out there: this is the ideal thing to put on during a 3:30 a.m. bathroom break.

Track 2 is called “Ocean of Cum” and the second verse starts with “You sucked me and sucked me, but I never went dry.” I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

It’s an album of 140 fart sounds. Let’s think about this. Someone decided to put out an album of fart sounds, which is understandable, but then they went full-savant and came up with 140 independent, centralized designations of fart sounds. AND, they gave then track-titles like “Chili Cheese Dogs,” “Fluff ‘r’ Nutter,” and my personal favorite, “Lady of Fartinggale.” We just landed on Mars.

In what appears to be some angry arch-conservative galvanization, the Axe Men decided to grab 12 songs with the word “rock” in the title, and change it to “Barack.” So: “Barack You Like A Hurricane,” "We Will Barack You,” “Barackin’ On Sunshine,” and “Barack the Casbah.” Essentially, it’s just a gag to let them complain about the economy and Obamacare through the industrious potential of highly-literal lyrics and power chords. Also, it’s apparently outdated, because they’re singing about how Bin Laden is still at large. I really hope these guys were booked at a couple Tea Party rallies—they definitely deserved it.

If you’re like me, you were either listening to or talking about Metallica for about 60 percent of middle school. Those songs are so deeply attached to my subconscious, there’s something weirdly impactful in hearing them converted to meditation-ready cool-down jams. Yoga To Metallica essentially replaces all the grim, torrential Metallica riffs into docile, relaxation-ready string plucks. To be honest, I actually prefer their version of “Nothing Else Matters.”

Ugh, this thing is just fucking gross. It’s a bunch of disconcerting, bowel-y sloshing sounds with the occasional burst glitchy Aphex Twin drums. I don’t think it’s possible to listen to this album for longer than 30 seconds, which is actually more than enough time to get through track 8, “Orgasmic Lard Steam (Flush #1).”

Mambo Kurt (or is it Kurt Mambo?) is some German crooner who does cover songs. There are no guitars, drums, or bass, just several impossibly chintzy Casio keyboards and his own wailing, off-key, incredibly European croon. Frankly, you have to hear it to believe it. His version of the Sex Pistols’ “God Save The Queen” will make you fall out of your chair.

I’ll try to explain this as best as I can. Worship Jamz is a shitball compilation of pumped-up worship songs for overly-energetic kids before Sunday School. But this, Karaoke – In the Style of Worship Jamz, appears to be an even lower-rent knock-off version of the same album. I’m pretty sure all the songs are the same, they’re just recorded by different people and with slightly shittier aesthetics. It’s like Kidz Bopping a Kidz Bop. If Spotify can teach us one thing, it’s that you can always find a smaller production budget.

@luke_winkie