Great! Keep 'em coming, phoaks!

Let's have some more for the list of music so strange, that if it were played outside the Neil Young Center for the Terminally Screwed, it would turn the Center at a 90-degree angle, inextricably altering the fabric of the space-time continuum, and leading to bands of escaped tiple players assaulting the ears of a race of space-going frogs from another dimension who are armed only with bufflebusters. (That was the closest translation of the word 'galing-galugh-guh' that I could find in the 'Intergalactic Foreign Curse Dictionary'... Honest!)

Spaw's farts have a definite influence on me. I don't know if that counts as musical though. They influence me to choke, gag, and leave the room, where I proceed to roll on the floor, laughing madly. Is the primary composition of his farts really laughing gas?
Sometimes I wonder...