y first run-in with Bongwater occurred in 1993, when, freshly graduated from high school, and already sick of art school, I got a job at the local Music Plus. I was a snotty young kid with a good, healthy Pixies obsession, purple hair with yellow streaks, and a Sonic Youth tee shirt that I must have worn at least once a week. About a month into my duties as a stocker, I came upon copies of Bongwater’s The Big Sell Out, and The Power of Pussy. I thought it was a joke band. I mean, who calls their band “Bongwater”? The store’s resident stoner ambled by and caught the record out of the corner of his eye. After much chuckling, we decided to put it on the in-store stereo system. The title track from The Power of Pussy came blaring out of the speakers at 10. Squealing feedback followed by buzz saw guitars and waves of cymbals. And then, Ann Magnuson and Kramer singing “Pusseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Pusseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Ann then follows with a spoken narrative. It was messy, weird, noisy, offensive and completely fucked up. I hated it. So did the rest of the staff who started to throw blank tapes and pens at me, demanding that I, “Turn that shit off”.


By that time, Bongwater had already imploded in on itself. It’s two brains, performance artist/ actress Ann Magnuson, and legendary producer/ ex-Butthole Surfers bassist/ Shimmy Disc owner Kramer had a personal and professional break-up that led right up to the 1992 release of their final album, The Big Sell-Out.


I wouldn’t hear Bongwater again until late 1999. An on again – off again boyfriend had procured a vinyl copy of Too Much Sleep from a garage sale, had given it a few listens, hated it and gave it to me to try. This time, something stuck. I loved it. It was still messy, weird, noisy offensive, and completely fucked up, but my tastes had changed and matured. I could hear that mess as beautiful, instead of just a mess.


And now almost ten years later from my first exposure to Ann and Kramer’s’ magnificent noise, I’ve finally gone and got my hands on the Box of Bongwater. Four discs that house almost every bit of music the duo ever recorded. It includes all four albums, the first EP, Breaking No New Ground, and their contribution to the Rutles tribute. It’s a highly rewarding listen. All four discs paint the picture of an art-damaged psychedelic band punching and kicking it’s way through five years of experiments in performance, dialogue, sound, and every genre of music under the sun.


The debut EP, Breaking No New Ground, starts the first disc off with a cover of the Moody Blues, “Ride My Seesaw”. It takes a lot of guts to introduce yourself to the world with a cover song. Especially a song by such a classic rock canon. Bongwater takes the song and warps it into almost a completely different animal. It’s the cover band from Hell. Clanging guitars that sound like they could fall apart at any second build and build as Ann talks her way into fit of shrieking laughter. It finally falls into the melodic groove of the original, and lets chugging guitars and Ann’s multitracked vocals drive the song into psychedelic bliss. Bongwater were skilled and inventive when it came to covers. Almost all of their covers are included here, save the Neil Young number, “Mr. Soul”, that appeared on The Bridge tribute album. However, their brilliant take on Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused”, re-titled “Dazed and Chinese” and sung in Mandarin, is included here. Ballsy, big and obnoxious, Ann plays on Robert Plant’s vocal delivery in a loving way. It’s a tribute. A roast. And it rocks.


Bongwater is a pair of two of the finest instruments ever. Ann’s wit and voice and Kramer’s production. Ann creates characters with broad strokes as well as subtle inflections. She uses her voice as a weapon, an instrument, and a puppet. Sometimes singing, sometimes talking, sometimes peeling the paint off the walls with shrieks and squeals and yells. Her observations are sharp and funny. Damn she’s smart. She is a force to be reckoned with, and Kramer is the perfect foil. He sets the stage for her characters to inhabit. He makes them pop. The work he did in Bongwater is some of his finest. The songs are loopy and seem out of control. And that’s the beauty. It’s all according to plan. Kramer, the man behind the curtain, knows right where to shine the lights and when to let the smoke pour.


My biggest complaint with the box, is that they chose to put everything they could on the four discs. Which sometimes means that an entire album won’t fit on one CD and ends up carried over to the next disc. It disrupts the flows of each individual album. Which is a damn shame because each album had such a distinct personality. Double Bummer is the naïve, lo-fi, psychedelic beauty. Too Much Sleep is a calmer outing, but it’s a sleeping beast. The Power of Pussy perfects Ann’s biting monologues. And finally, The Big Sell Out, which is angry and a bit bitter, but the most confident of the bunch.


Ultimately, the amazing thing about Bongwater, is that you can’t ignore any of it. Not the music, not the lyrics, not the production, not the album art. None of it. It all works so well together, that it’s hard to imagine Kramer’s layers of guitars and feedback and noise without Ann’s voice wailing away or talking over it. They created an unlikely monster. A human. Like many of us, Bongwater is beautiful, mean, selfish, loving, scared, angry, and ugly. You have to take it all, and accept that it bleeds. That it’s not perfect. The best thing is, Bongwater were able to laugh at it all. Like many of us.