“Folks just call him Buckethead”

Enter Buckethead, the mysterious shaman who inhabits the music world.
[clucking chickens in the distance… “I ain’t got no boy”]

He’s the bastard son of a preacher man and to hide the shame he was raised in a cage, the chicken house.
At 17 he burnt down the chicken house, did puppet shows and was off to be a star (with the help of colonel sanders of course).

Welcome to Bucketheadland. “Whoa!” with Giant Robots and an annual increase of maggots to the cemetery corpses.

Ozzy Osbourne once wanted him to take the bucket off. Nooooo….
He was also in Guns ‘N Roses….
Buckethead has worked with many great people too, Bootsy Collins, Les Claypool of Primus, Bernie Worrell of Parliament-Funkadelic, Mike Patton, Viggo Mortensen, has about 50 albums or so and really likes Michael Jackson.

*Jump man over stick pit, fun for you, in the Carpal Tunnel Tomb Torker.
The Haven of the Black Tar Pitch and The Bronze Bat enter tomarrow.
Enter the Chicken, population overdrive and electric tears somewhere over the slaughterhouse or Bermuda Triangle.
The Disembodied Dreamatorium lays the big sur moon.*

Buckethead is definately up there with the imaginary sphere and if you can go say hi to him, or better yet let him say hi to you, go and listen to some Buckethead and embrace the world. I love the shear scope of it all.

Watch the decent, oh my,

and this is a song for his mother…