LAST
CRACK – Sinister Funkhouse #17 (1989)
Roadracer Records / Roadrunner Records
A €2
Discovery of a Cult-Level Oddity
There is a particular thrill in crate digging that no
amount of online searching can quite reproduce: the dusty bargain bin, the
forgotten corner of a record shop, and that unexpected moment when a couple of
euros suddenly open the door to an obscure chapter of metal history.
That was exactly my experience with Sinister Funkhouse
#17. I stumbled upon an original 1989 pressing for just €2—a ridiculously good
price for a record that represents one of the strangest, most individualistic
and genuinely unpredictable debuts to emerge from the American underground
during the late ’80s.
Formed in Madison, Wisconsin, in 1987, Last Crack were
hardly a conventional proposition from the beginning. Their early reputation
was built not only around their music but also around volatile, emotionally
charged live performances, which eventually brought them to the attention of
Roadrunner A&R man Monte Conner. The label signed them and sent the band to
Minneapolis to record their debut at Prince’s legendary Paisley Park Studios.
Released in the United States on June 19, 1989,
through Roadracer Records, Sinister Funkhouse #17 is a fascinating snapshot of
a band that clearly had no intention of fitting comfortably into any
established category.
And despite what its title might suggest, this is not
some misguided attempt at funk-metal. The word “funk” here is considerably more
important to the band's mythology than to any straightforward description of
their sound.
A
Tale of Two Sides
One of the most fascinating aspects of the original
vinyl edition is how naturally it divides into two contrasting halves.
Side A – Progressive Chaos and Acid-Drenched
Imagination
The first side is where Last Crack's eccentricity
really comes alive.
Opening with the brief and unsettling Good Mourning
From The Funkhouse, the album quickly launches into Gush Volcano Crush
(G.V.C.), before moving through Blood Brothers of the Big Black Bear, Concrete
Slaughterdogs, Slicing Steel and Saraboyscage.
The songwriting is restless, unpredictable and
frequently disorientating. Riffs appear, mutate and disappear; rhythms change
direction without warning; and the band seems perfectly comfortable allowing a
song to become strange rather than forcing it back into a conventional
structure.
Concrete Slaughterdogs is one of the clearest
demonstrations of their ability to combine muscular riffing with an almost
manic sense of movement, while Slicing Steel introduces a darker, more
atmospheric quality.
There is a psychedelic quality to this material, but
it never becomes lightweight. Last Crack were far too heavy for that. Their
music sounds as though progressive rock, traditional heavy metal, alternative
rock and a particularly unhealthy imagination have been thrown into the same
basement and told to work things out among themselves.
The result is messy—but deliberately so.
Side B – More Direct, But Still Unpredictable
Flip the record over and the band suddenly seems a
little more disciplined.
The Last Crack, Shelter, Terse and the
seven-and-a-half-minute Thee Abyss retain the band's eccentric personality, but
the riffs become more immediately recognizable and the structures somewhat more
grounded.
The Last Crack has a swaggering, riff-driven quality
that makes it one of the album's more immediate moments, while Terse delivers a
compact dose of muscular heavy metal. The real centerpiece, however, is Thee
Abyss, an extended closer that allows the band to stretch out and explore the
darker side of their sound.
Calling Side B “classic heavy metal” would perhaps be
too simplistic—the band's personality remains far too strange for that—but
there is certainly a stronger traditional metal backbone here.
And that contrast between the two sides is part of
what makes the original vinyl such an interesting listen.
The
Musicianship Is No Joke
Behind all the bizarre titles, surreal lyrics and
Buddo's theatrical persona, there is a seriously accomplished band.
The twin-guitar attack of Paul Schluter and Don Bakken
provides much of the album's identity, moving effortlessly between chunky
riffs, atmospheric passages and surprisingly sophisticated lead work. Todd
Winger gives the material a solid low-end foundation, while drummer Phil
“Philo” Buerstatte plays with both precision and aggression.
Buerstatte's subsequent career makes his presence here
even more interesting: after his years with Last Crack, he joined White Zombie,
touring with the band from 1992 to 1994 and appearing on several recordings,
including Feed the Gods, I Am Hell and White Zombie's version of Children of
the Grave. He died in 2013, aged 46.
At the front of this peculiar machine stands Buddo
Xavier Rank, whose vocal approach is almost impossible to separate from Last
Crack's identity. He doesn't simply sing these songs—he performs them.
His delivery can be aggressive, theatrical, sarcastic
and downright unhinged, often sounding closer to an actor inhabiting a deranged
character than a conventional metal vocalist. It is not polished in the
traditional sense, but it is unmistakably his own.
What
Exactly Is the “Sinister Funkhouse”?
The title becomes considerably more entertaining once
you know where it came from.
The Sinister Funkhouse was reportedly the band's
rented practice/storage space outside Madison, where the musicians spent long
hours rehearsing in hot and cramped conditions. Buddo would apparently write
poetry, phrases and potential lyrics directly onto the walls with a marker.
In other words, the album title was not some
calculated record-company attempt to manufacture an eccentric image. The
eccentricity was already there.
That detail also explains something about the record's
atmosphere. Sinister Funkhouse #17 sounds less like a carefully designed
commercial product and more like a document smuggled out of a strange creative
bunker.
“Blood Brothers of the Big Black Bear” – A Trip into
the Madison Underground
One of the album's most memorable and bizarre tracks
is Blood Brothers of the Big Black Bear.
The song is connected to The Black Bear, a basement
bar that functioned as a hangout for members of Madison's metal scene during
the late ’80s and early ’90s. The track turns that real-world environment into
something much more surreal, with Buddo's lyrics constructing an almost
hallucinatory barroom mythology.
It is a perfect example of what makes Last Crack so
difficult to classify. There is genuine heavy metal muscle underneath it, but
the lyrical imagery is bizarre enough to make the whole thing feel like an
underground theatre piece performed by people who have spent far too much time
in the same basement.
And perhaps that is precisely the point.
Recorded
at Prince's Paisley Park
Another detail that adds considerably to the album's
historical appeal is its recording location.
Sinister Funkhouse #17 was recorded at Paisley Park
Studios in Minneapolis, the studio complex owned by Prince. The album was
engineered by Jim Rondinelli, produced by Randy Green, and mixed by Genya
Ravan, with David Cook and Deanna Hewitt also credited in the mixing process.
The unlikely combination of a Madison underground
metal band and Prince's studio is almost as strange as the music itself.
Yet the recording doesn't sound excessively polished
or sterilized. It retains a raw, slightly unruly character that suits Last
Crack perfectly. The musicianship is strong, but the production never
completely removes the feeling that something dangerous and unpredictable is
happening inside the room.
And
Then There Was That Cover...
Of course, no discussion of Sinister Funkhouse #17
would be complete without mentioning its infamous artwork.
The original cover features Buddo naked, posed in an
archer-like stance against a blood-splattered background. It was provocative
enough to attract considerable attention when the album appeared, and the
imagery became one of the band's most recognizable calling cards.
In retrospect, it is almost impossible to imagine a
better visual representation of the album's personality.
Strange? Absolutely.
Subtle? Not remotely.
Forgettable? Certainly not.
A
Cult Classic That Never Quite Found Its Audience
Last Crack followed Sinister Funkhouse #17 with
Burning Time in 1991, a considerably more focused but still highly distinctive
album produced by Dave Jerden. The band appeared to be heading toward something
bigger, but internal problems and mismanagement contributed to their eventual
collapse.
Their story, however, did not completely end there.
The original members reunited for a performance in
Madison in 2002, documented on Burning Funkhouse Live, and later returned for
further performances, including a 2009 reunion celebrating the twentieth
anniversary of their debut. Last Crack eventually became an active band again
and released The Up Rising in 2019.
There was also an unexpected European chapter: Last
Crack toured Europe in 2005 and appeared at the Headway Festival in Amstelveen,
Netherlands, on the same bill as Fates Warning.
That history only reinforces the strange trajectory of
the band. They were never quite mainstream enough to become household names,
yet they possessed enough talent and individuality to keep resurfacing among
people who had discovered them years earlier.
The
Verdict
Sinister Funkhouse #17 is not a flawless masterpiece,
nor does it need to be.
Its value lies elsewhere.
This is an album made by musicians who were clearly
capable of playing technically demanding metal but were unwilling to let
technical ability dictate their artistic boundaries. Progressive passages
collide with traditional heavy metal, psychedelic ideas rub shoulders with
hard-rock swagger, and Buddo's bizarre theatricality ties the whole thing
together.
It is eccentric without being pretentious, heavy
without becoming predictable, and experimental without losing its physical
impact.
Most importantly, it sounds like Last Crack.
And that is probably the greatest compliment one can
give an obscure late-’80s metal album.
Finding an original copy for €2 makes the story even
better. For that price, I didn't just buy a record—I bought a small,
beautifully strange piece of American underground metal history.
Final Score: 70/100
A fiercely original, unpredictable debut from a band
that refused to belong to any particular scene—and became all the more
interesting because of it.
Nick Parastatidis
