When the first Big Mouth Billy Bass was thrust into existence in the late nineties, we all should have known then that the end was nigh. Made of latex and plastic and forged in the fires of hell, they are most unholy creations. At first glance they appear to be game trophies, the preserved carcasses of ill-fated animals, a reminder of our own fragile mortality. But upon inspection one will quickly realize that Big Mouth Billy Bass are not of nature. They are deceivers, godless inventions who mock death, but they are also prisoners by design, cursed to repeat the same few dozen words over and over, echoing “Don’t worry, be happy” through an unchanging, vacant gaze for all of time.
And now, they are legion.
Inside a bar called The Royal Palms Shuffleboard Club in Chicago, over 70 Big Mouth Billy Bass cover a single wall. Co-owner of the bar, Ashley Albert, and designer and engineer, Adam Lassy, combined forces and together they have created an army of darkness. Using custom-created software, they have synchronized all of the 70-plus Big Mouth Billy Bass and turned them into a single, godless choir, most likely capable of summoning the devil himself with the power of Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees.