Flipper ‎– Album Generic Flipper

My copy contains a Subterranean Records catalog insert dated March 1993 and no memorial to Will Shatter.

Any good hints of what era this copy points to?

From the mock doctor's prescription on the lyric sheet:

Listen for 45 minutes.
4 times daily or... as needed.

Caution: to be taken in conjunction
with alcoholic beverages,
at Maximum Volume!

For me, discovering Flipper was like discovering Captain Beefheart. You hear them described as influences, but it still doesn't prepare you for what you're about to embark upon; like the way a vegan dinner takes time to appreciate for those used to nothing but meat and potatoes. There are benefits to be had and one may not feel them right off the bat, but the rewards are there for those willing to train themselves, several times if necessary. And soon after beginning The Generic Album, I knew Flipper was going to be one of those bands.

Ever heard of filmmaker Sam Peckinpah, the struggling alcoholic director who constantly had his films taken away from him, mangled in the editing room and never had the final cut? He did a picture in Mexico in the early '70s where, finally, he had made the movie he wanted to make with his vision (and cut) intact, what I believe to be one of the nastiest pieces of cinematic nihilism ever filmed: Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. Blood, sweat, tears, guts and all. Laid bare. Revealing the human id, if you will. A repulsive spiritual autopsy of fallen man's vanity. It's the same nihilism that Flipper lived through their music, reminding me of Jeremiah Kipp's review of Bad Lieutenant where he theorized that Keitel used the role as a sort of therapist's couch to rid himself of his fears.

From the catchy mock clap-along that accompanies "Ever" to the outrageous album-closer "Sex Bomb," there's also a wry sense of humor at work, too. But elsewhere, one of self-aware despair. "Dying too young, and I'm living too fast / It's starting to feel like I'm living in the past." "I've got to strip this flesh from my bones / I've got to hammer the walls with my hands." "No tears wasted / No sorrow, no pity / No, no crying, no loss." Lyrics like these revealed the band's deep-rooted personal need to get these things out before it destroyed them for real. But unlike a lot of today's popular music that seeks to make despair sexy and desirable, the sheer weight of sincerity they give to the lyrics and the songwriting makes their music both a dire warning and an optimistic, beer-soaked, care-free enjoyment in spite of itself. (No trend-setters, they.) "I, too, have sung death's praises / But I'm not gonna sing that song anymore / Yes, I've found out what living is all about / And it's life! / LIFE! / Life is the only thing worth living for!" Then Bruce punctuates it with, "I know it has its ups and downs." No band that performs in this manner could tell you that they don't really believe what they're saying, that it's just art and doesn't actually reflect their individual lives. Not Flipper. They were as unpretentious as it got.

The "quality" of the production, if one could call it that, was as intentional as Venom's first record: deliberate off-kilter ugliness that underlined and emphasized their intent. While other hardcore punk bands in the early '80s blitzed through their sets with wild abandon, Flipper's unique wall-of-shit sound was slow-burning to the crisp. Absolutely nothing rushed, everything stated. And even though they're constantly lumped in with that genre, they were "punk" only in the sense of their creative DIY philosophy; at heart, Flipper was a rock and roll band. (Jim Fouratt nailed it when he called them "art-damaged," a most accurate descriptor, right there.) The Generic Album is a sly, hidden masterpiece that rewards patience and time, and it's one of my desert-island favorites.