Mr Blobby Album

Uncompromisingly brutal, this Noel Edmonds masterminded project takes the grindcore genre to new extremes. Straight off the bat you know you're in for something truly special as "Old MacBlobby Had a Farm" threatens to obliterate the speakers with its visceral maelstrom of riffs and machine-gun drum patterns. "Ten Pink Blobbies" combines face shredding riffs with the sort of double-bass drumming that make your insides feel like they're about to prolapse. Industrial elements are introduced for the epic "Clockwork", in which Blobby uses his guttural vocal delivery to its full potential to explore themes of ultraviolence. The album closer "lullaby" is an amusingly ironically titled spazz-out in which Blobby bemoans the lack of time spent with Edmonds following the recent success of "Deal or no Deal". If I was the banker I'd be cacking myself. Overall, this is an absolutely unmissable album, and destined to be an extreme classic for decades to come.

picture the scene a young lad wandering down the rocky roads of a town somewhere possibly near you. his day as ever takes the dull pattern and yet for some reason inside he feels very different. today he is about to become a MAN. today, he is about to purchase the life changing Mr Blobby album - it's sheerly breathtaking just pondering it now brings butterflies to my stomach and dribble to my chin. Hats off to the producer - top notch stuff from messers Edmonds (possibly) and Blobby - hopefully the saga will continue - remember Legends like them never die

I had heard talk of this legendary album - in hushed tones, and in dark corners of clubs where seemingly innocent terms often have a double meaning. I could scarcely believe my eyes as I happened upon this rarely visited cranny of Amazon.co.uk - would I finally be able to lay my hands on a genuine copy of 'Mr Blobby Album' by Mr Blobby? Were the myths really true? Given its dangerous reputation I'm sure you'll understand why I approached with some trepidation - but emboldened by the positive words of other reviewers I crossed myself and clicked the order button.

During his short career, Mr Blobby had to contend with some unkind words from those who were unable (or unwilling) to understand him. Terms like 'fat pink spotted retard' and 'person somehow able to tolerate Noel Edmonds' were bandied about. But however bats**t unhinged he seemed at times, that abuse must have cut deep, because its repercussions are queasily audible in every moment of this terrifying music.

Perhaps it is what inspired 'Mr Blobby', in many ways the harrowing centrepiece of this vision. The lyrics detail grandiosity ('Mr Blobby, your influence will spread throughout the land'), hope ('his philosophy of life will see him through'), and denial ('as far as he can see he's the same as me and you'). At times it degenerates into a gurgling repetition of his name, as if he needs convincing that the nightmare of his existence is really true.

The music is harder to describe. Yes, there are 'face shredding riffs'. Yes, there are trip-hop, R&B and industrial influences at work. But it's the sheer insanity of artistic decisions like forcing the listener to contemplate his morphological irregularity by replacing the bass in the mix with the sound of his own squelching flatulence (one of the problems brought about by his bizarre condition that I gather he found the most difficulty with); by juxtaposing his own tormented howl with the innocence of a children's choir; and these ideas come madeningly thick and fast, which is certainly part of what makes it so unsettling. Some accused him of outrageous bravado but I see this as very much a cri-de-coeur, a plea for understanding from his tormenters.

As for Edmonds himself, I don't think we'll ever know the truth of his involvement. Certainly one is aware in this album of the grandiose sentiment evident in the infamous Chegwin-abetted 'Noel's HQ' rallies. But for me, there is here such a depth of twisted, unreal beauty, horror and madness that equating it with a brief moment of over-the-top bluster is like comparing (as Blobby himself does, alluded to by A. Customer in another review) a natural wariness of the feminine with a literal 'Blob Lake'.

Knowing him to be of stout constitution, and giving him ample warning of the extreme nature of some of the content I played it to my friend and neighbour, Mr Worthington. When the CD stopped, he stared through me, uttering the words "I pray for the existence of oblivion for the sake of that poor man's soul" and hasn't opened his mouth since. If he doesn't stop crying soon, I think I going to have to call someone. And I'm going to have some explaining to do if Mrs Worthington returns from her girl's trip to Jamaica to find him this way!

I suppose I must conclude that this is at once a sad document of a crazed and broken soul at the moment of collapse, and yet so much more than that. Listen at your own risk. I must weep now for I have seen God's nature.