Can Can Heads is a nest of contradictions, twists and surprises. It’s violent music with a gentle heart. The band’s front man doesn’t sing. Or play an instrument. He occupies the space on stage where a lead singer usually resides. And gyrates. Generally, the bass is as close as the band gets to a lead instrument. The music is convulsive and jerky, but manages to reach a hypnotic state. It’s like tribal music made by a quintet consisting of misfits and contrarians. Hailing from a barn in the flood-prone flatlands of Bothnia in western Finland, Can Can Heads has been kicking against the pricks for over two decades. They’ve managed to avoid all contact with the roaming searchlights of media attention by skulking from one margin to another: punk, no wave, free jazz, noise. All this goes into a blender and out comes something the band itself tends to call “Ramones meets Albert Ayler”. Others might call it skronk. Butter Life is not smooth and it’s not creamy. It sizzles and scrapes, raking its lo-fi nails from your scapula down to the small of your back.
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