WARNING: Listeners may find the following content objectionable. Discretion is strongly advised!
These words, or similar variations, often served as a playful dare rather than a genuine deterrent on records pushing the boundaries of decency in the mid-20th century. Instead of scaring away potential buyers, such warnings often piqued curiosity, turning the record into a must-hear novelty, especially through word-of-mouth. In the world of risqué records, controversy was often the best marketing strategy. And few records courted controversy quite like “Butcher Pete” by Roy Brown.
Hackin’, Whackin’ And Smackin’ The concept of sexually suggestive content in art is far from new. Centuries before rock and roll, literature pushed societal boundaries. John Cleland’s 1749 novel, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, better known as Fanny Hill, openly explored the life of a prostitute, complete with orgies, bisexuality, and adultery, devoid of remorse. Banned in both Britain and America for generations, it wasn’t until the 1960s, through landmark court cases, that Fanny Hill could be legally published and sold without censorship. This historical example underscores a timeless human fascination with the forbidden, a duality that music, particularly the burgeoning genre of rock ‘n’ roll, would readily exploit.
Enter Butcher Pete, a two-part saga by blues shouter Roy Brown, released in 1950. This record dove headfirst into the realm of sexual innuendo, bordering on the taboo, and perhaps even hinting at necrophilia, depending on interpretation. Despite its scandalous nature, or perhaps because of it, Billboard magazine reviewed “Butcher Pete” surprisingly favorably, albeit with a clear caveat: Not For Airplay. This warning, of course, only amplified its allure.
From Sunrise To Sunset The true extent of Butcher Pete’s “crimes,” as depicted in the song, remains open to interpretation, shrouded in euphemism. The central metaphor revolves around “meat,” a term whose sexual connotations are key to understanding the song’s suggestive nature. While today “meat” is commonly understood as slang for male genitalia, in older, more sexually explicit contexts, it was often used to refer to female genitalia as well.
Roy Brown’s Butcher Pete masterfully employs this double entendre. With lines about Pete wielding his “big long knife” and “chopping women’s meat,” the song paints a crude, albeit captivating, picture of sexual encounters. The narrative is straightforward, almost rudimentary, listing the women Pete “defiles” daily. While the idea of a song about a sexual deviant isn’t entirely novel – consider “Mack the Knife,” written in 1928, which explores similar themes with far more subtlety – Butcher Pete opts for shock value over nuance.
Each line in “Butcher Pete” functions like a sensational headline, lacking any pretense of subtlety. Brown’s delivery further emphasizes this crudeness; he shouts rather than sings, foregoing melody for raw, declamatory power. If Brown were railing against vice, his fiery delivery might resemble a Pentecostal preacher denouncing sin from a makeshift stage. However, his enthusiastic portrayal of Butcher Pete, the perpetrator, transforms him into a gleeful town crier, relishing the chance to spread scandalous gossip and draw attention.
Adding to the boisterous atmosphere is a chorus of voices, seemingly representing gossipy townsfolk. Their lascivious chanting of “he’s hacking and whacking and smacking” hints at their own suppressed desires, a vicarious thrill derived from Butcher Pete’s exploits, even as they feign disapproval. This collective performance borders on the boorish, yet possesses an undeniable entertainment value, provided the listener maintains a detached, amused perspective.
You Ain’t Heard Nothin’ Yet However, indulging in Butcher Pete’s lifestyle, the song suggests, is a path to ruin. Beyond the obvious risk of venereal diseases from Pete’s indiscriminate “chopping,” the narrative takes a darker, more perverse turn. Pete is eventually arrested – presumably for rape or sexual assault – although some women, as quoted by fictional reporters within the song, seemingly desire his unwanted attention.
Despite potential legal loopholes for aggravated sexual assault in this fictional world, Pete’s carnal urges remain unchecked in prison. In Part Two of the song, we learn that prison guards discover Pete “chopping” his cellmate, an unfortunate, presumably intoxicated, vagrant who awakens to a most unwelcome encounter.
But the saga doesn’t end there. Part Two, though arguably less impactful than the first, continues Pete’s outrageous spree. He “chops” on the pulpit in a church, on a ship bound for China, and ultimately, in a bizarre climax, “chops down” the electric chair itself as society attempts to execute him for his crimes.
The song leaves the listener pondering the nature of Pete’s “knife.” Is it still a euphemism for his penis, or has it become a literal blade, perhaps symbolically returned to him after his initial prison stint? Or does Butcher Pete possess a penis so potent it can dismantle furniture and electrical appliances? The song revels in this ambiguity.
Butcher Pete feels intentionally convoluted, almost improvised. It’s easy to imagine Roy Brown and his collaborators concocting these outlandish scenarios on the road, fueled by wine and a desire to outdo each other with increasingly outrageous ideas. In that context of playful absurdity, the nonsensical lyrics work.
However, within a structured performance, Butcher Pete suffers from its lack of direction, its crassness, its repetitiveness, and its sheer frenetic energy that borders on incomprehensible.
Yet, paradoxically, these very shortcomings contribute to its appeal. The relentless pace and chaotic energy distract from the lyrical deficiencies. This is where the musical arrangement, co-written and produced by Henry Glover and performed by Brown’s band, The Mighty Mighty Men, becomes crucial. Their musical attack is as potent and relentless as the narrative it accompanies.
Gave Him Back His Same Old Knife For listeners less concerned with lyrical depth and more attuned to raw energy and musical punch, Butcher Pete likely fares much better. While a balanced assessment considers both lyrics and music, in this case, the musical force is undeniable, almost overwhelming the lyrical content.
The energy of the song emanates from Brown’s vocals, but the musicians are far from secondary. The drumming provides a solid, driving backbeat, while the horns and piano inject melodic fragments into the sonic chaos.
It’s during the instrumental breaks that The Mighty Mighty Men truly shine. The horn section – featuring tenor and baritone saxophones and trumpet – is a highlight. Surprisingly, the three horns don’t clash; instead, they weave together brilliantly, each carving out its own sonic space while contributing to the track’s relentless momentum.
Tenor saxophonist Johnny Fontenette and baritone saxophonist Batman Rankins trade lead and supporting roles, unleashing furious solos that shred any semblance of musical decorum. Their instrumental duels become the record’s most compelling moments. The horns exude explosive energy, constantly threatening to detonate, and this tension, combined with Brown’s manic vocals, almost, but not quite, compensates for the song’s lyrical weaknesses.
Don’t Know When To Stop Butcher Pete’s enduring notoriety is undeniable. Its scandalous reputation, coupled with its raw, unbridled energy, makes it a captivating listen even today, decades after its release, when its lyrical content is far less shocking to modern ears.
However, reputations can sometimes outstrip reality. While the excitement is palpable, the relentless repetition of Butcher Pete can become wearisome. Beyond the lack of narrative development, character depth, or dynamic variation, the song offers little sonic breathing room. It’s the musical equivalent of a heart attack – intense, but ultimately exhausting.
Perhaps this relentless intensity is fitting. Contemporary guardians of morality likely experienced their own metaphorical heart attacks upon hearing Butcher Pete, imagining the fictional butcher wreaking havoc in their communities. Their condemnation of such music is, in that context, understandable.
Rock ‘n’ roll would accumulate many warning labels over the years, but Butcher Pete was arguably the first record that genuinely warranted one. While far from a masterpiece of songwriting, its sheer audacity, both lyrically and musically, elevates it above mere novelty.
Assessing Butcher Pete is subjective. Whether you deem it brilliant or base, both perspectives are defensible. In the realm of wild, unrestrained music, Butcher Pete occupies a unique, and undeniably controversial, space.
SPONTANEOUS LUNACY VERDICT:
(Visit the Artist page of Roy Brown for the complete archive of his records reviewed to date)
