The Shaggs – Philosophy of the World Review

From the first notes alone, you can tell something is off about Philosophy of the World. The Shaggs were a step ahead of the culture or completely unable to learn their craft. It depends on who you ask, but both are true. Are they a group of intentional provocateurs or genuinely incompetent? When we look at music, especially now, it’s easier to lean towards the former than the latter because we hope there is something there that isn’t plain or surface-level. Some acts are just plain poor while others, like Lou Reed with Metal Machine Music or John Lennon and Yoko Ono with Unfinished Music Vol. 1, are setting out to get a rise out of a listener. Figuring out what The Shaggs did with their sole album, Philosophy of the World, is trickier, but context is everything. Here is a trio who had no interest in music, and yet they were seemingly pushed into it because any record had a chance of reaching a respectable chart position.  

Is it, then, that The Shaggs defied the want of their father, Austin Shaggs, who put them up to this record. A palm reading is what drove the interest in Philosophy of the World, not the talent or interest of the artists. All is well for the first second, and then the instruments are so clearly out of time it’s hard to think of what could cause further dissonance. A drum beat with a mine of its own and an out-of-tune guitar are bad enough, but then the poor and rich, the skinny and fat contrast in the lyrics, come through. What a title track. It’s up there with Smart Girls from Brian Wilson as a song that serves as a truly fascinating experience. The Shaggs are either estranged from reality or are keen to implode their careers just in case their father was right and they end up successes. Irrespective of the reasoning, Philosophy of the World is a talking point through its aversion to what we know is, typically, good music.  

Laughable stuff, but it’s a rare moment where laughing with or at The Shaggs makes no difference. Philosophy of the World is on the same par as Neil Breen. You’ll not stop laughing with this one. But it’s not offensive in the same way Will Smith’s Based on a True Story is. The Shaggs has, at least, some interest to themselves and their work. Beautifully abysmal work is what Philosophy of the World is. My Pal Foot Foot is unhinged. The implication there is someone out there, or even something, called Foot Foot, let alone it being a friend. Lunatic scribblings from three people who very much wanted to be doing something else with their time. Musically speaking, it’s unlistenable, but you must dig deeper than that, you must look at the context.  

Because once you have that context in mind, you can at least get to grips with this as a piece of rebellion. Not against genre or music, but against parental will and the consequences of defying it are clear to hear. A truly fun listen if you can suspend your need to hear good music and just go along with this trio. Not even comedy troupes or comedic-adjacent bands can get close to this. The Shaggs, intentionally or not, and it does seem to be an active choice to be this bad rather than pure accident, have put out one of the best comedy albums we’ll ever hear. One of the more fascinating listens available when it comes to the dreck of so-called worst-ever albums. Does an album that intends to be awful technically qualify? No, not really. The Shaggs knew what they were doing with this act of self-sabotage, and by the sounds of it, it’s served them well accidentally.