This column exists to bring you the coolest and/or weirdest music I come across, and it has been brought to my attention that not everyone knows Vincent D’Onofrio made two absolutely unhinged spoken-word albums with musician Dana Lyn. If you’re one of those people, I am sorry. I have failed you, and I have failed the very concept of “Enjoy It! Or Don’t.”
That said, let’s get to rectifying!
You know Vincent D’Onofrio from his insane list of acting credits. He’s been the iconic Pvt. Pyle in Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket, a roach-infested alien, and Jerry fucking Falwell, just to name a few. If you know Dana Lyn, it is likely from her work on film scores, collaborations, or you just have great taste in electric violin music. Together, they form Slim Bone Head Volt, and between 2015 and 2018, they put out two of the most beautifully insane albums that have ever existed. Let’s start with “I Am A Hamster,” which begins “I am a hamster with a chip on my shoulder,” and continues as a rant told from the POV of a pet hamster (look, the secret’s in the name). Scroll to the bottom for our Spotify playlist.
Dana Lyn’s musical accompaniment provides exactly the amount of manic energy you have to assume D’Onofrio was experiencing when he wrote it. As D’Onofrio continues inhabiting an angry pet hamster, he repeats “Let’s not talk about the wheel,” with the kind of intensity that makes you wonder if he’s tapped into something primal that only he and pet hamsters really understand.
“My Friend Manchester” is a happy little track where D’Onofrio confides in his journal about a really fun day he had with his imaginary friend. The lyrics slip in and out of reality and imagination until you’re left unsure what was really happening, and, if you’re really listening, understand that D’Onofrio is communicating something deeper about his sadness and loneliness. Another wild track presented as a journal entry is “Super Beautiful.” D’Onofrio perfectly channels the thoughts and feelings of a self-involved Narcissus who is simultaneously madly in love with themself and rejecting any and all human connection. “I think I’m super beautiful; most people aren’t, but I am,” he says as Lyn creates a soundscape somewhere between beauty and insanity. He continues, “The thing about me, though, is that I’m not aware of my beauty, not at all.” Everything about Super Beautiful’s thoughts of themself is idealized, self-contradicting, and practiced. Their thoughts about others show an inner ugliness that our narrator refuses to acknowledge. We’ve all met someone like this. Most of us have probably lived at least a week or two like this.
Every song on Volume 1 is a new, fresh insanity that leaves you wondering how much is D’Onofrio pulling from his very soul and how much is fictionalized insanity. He starts as a hamster and ends lamenting that he will never get to play Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire.
In Volume 2, some of the manic energy is lost, but the sound is richer, and Dana Lyn has brought a whole backing band. The album seems to be a conscious collection of songs where D’Onofrio wrestles with his feelings about masculinity and manhood. “Pilot Wolf” goes into detail about groin pain, groin pleasure, erections, and violence. The music is upbeat, almost uplifting, as D’Onofrio decides to “stay strong” in “that area” and no longer acknowledge the top half of his body at all. This sets the tone for some really interesting tracks that go deeper into what it means to be a man – or, at least, what it means to Vincent D’Onofrio.
Don’t worry, there is as much unhinged magic on this album as the first. In “I’m A Mule,” D’Onofrio declares, “I’m a mule, and everybody should just slow the fuck down.” He wants to know why mules are forced to do things they don’t want to do that aren’t in their nature. He laments the existence of horses. Look, is it a stretch to say this is also about masculinity? You listen to the album and tell me.
The feather in this album’s cap, though, is the vulnerable and unexpectedly touching “Men Are Sweet, Too.” This is another journal entry, but it quickly shifts to a discussion of the love he feels for the men in his life. This track is thirteen minutes long and does more to topple toxic masculinity than 15 Ted Talks on the topic stacked together. He is honest about his faults and loving in his acknowledgment of how his friends support and love him despite them.
Just before 3:50, he begins listing the names of the men he loves (some of these names might make you feel some kind of way, but remember, it was 2018). The exuberance and joy in his voice as he lists the men that he loves are contagious. He slips into contemplation, an apology to the men he loves whom he forgot and his secret lovers. He discusses the loves he lost and the ways we lose people we love (sometimes our fault, sometimes not). He lists these “long-lost lovers” with the same passion and force as the first list. It is interesting to hear the names on these lists, to imagine the kinds of friendships he may have had with them, and perhaps even judge the list a little. But he doesn’t leave it there.
After a brief reprieve, he acknowledges the other side of love. He says he tries to love them, then, “These are the men I hate. In order from worst to least.” Of course, you hope he will say them loudly and clearly like the previous lists, but you know it’s not the kind of thing one does. Instead, he disguises their names in a Lynchian backward speech or describes their affronts to him. It’s funny and serves as a fitting end to an album that rests more on its oddness than its sincerity (though it is sincere throughout, including the hate list).
By the end of these two albums, it’s hard to feel like you don’t know Vincent D’Onofrio in a much more intimate way than you’d expect. Most of the tracks feel manic, unhinged, and purposefully odd, but there’s truth in each of them, even “Counter Culture,” which is a ranting list of words he hates. There is a line of honesty about his struggles with self-image, relationships, his relationship with the world, and the things he apparently gets lost in thought about. It’s wild, weird, and wonderful, and I hope you enjoy it… or don’t. Neither Vincent D’Onofrio nor I really give a shit.
Both albums are available on multiple streaming platforms and on vinyl and CD via Bandcamp.
