It’s Christeene versus this mad white man’s world on Basura, the raunchy artist’s latest musical annihilation of heteronormative convention.

First single “Butt Muscle” tore into glam-sex standards with a dirty bathhouse-bass throb and the video’s blatant rawness. Furry asses jiggle, get fisted, and ride giant ponytails, so take that, Trump. The end finds Christeene writhing in a pile of sticky bodies.

Basura, out now, picks up where the artist—the freaky, greasy, fashion-dumpster brainchild of Austin performer Paul Soileau—left off six years ago with her crowd-funded debut, Waste Up, Kneez Down, which featured smut ballad “Tears from My Pussy” and dizzying rap jam “Fix My Dick.”

With squawking cat “Tickle Tickle” in tow, she (or he or it—all pass in Christeene’s post-gender world) called NewNowNext to talk about her new “shield” of an album for the queer community, her new pussy-themed song for friend and electroclash fixture Peaches, and buttholes.

Where is Christeene at now during this political moment, and how did that shape Basura?

With Basura, I like to take so many different genres or styles that influence the pony inside of me and meld them together and present a new plate to fucking eat off of. I don’t like classification. I think it’s dangerous. I hope that this album is a shield, or a broach, or a hat, or some new shoes to stomp in and wreck things. Our duty right now, when times are this dark, is to wreck every structure. Especially these old fucking crusty men who have this power that we gave them. They need to be wrecked.

Has art lost its edge?

No, I think people just stopped becoming vulnerable. It’s easy now to get on a machine and paint yourself sexy or aggressive or even political, but you don’t do that at home. The kind of art I like does still have sexual heat or has something that pisses me off. If people are brave enough to let themselves be vulnerable in this very aggressive, naysayin’, finger-pointin’ world, you’re gonna get much more attacked much more quickly now, so you better have my album in your hand. (Laughs)

Eli Schmidt

What is it like for you to be vulnerable musically?

I like to become vulnerable so that people can use me to deal with their own shit. I’m not here to teach you anything. I’m not here to tell you that I know something you do not. I like to lay down on the table or the altar or in the back of your car, on the stage and I like to plug myself in. I like to scream, and I like you to use me and put all of your feelings inside of me. That for me is my vulnerability—to become a vessel for you to explore becoming vulnerable. Get behind me or hold my hand or get on my shoulders.

The vessel must get heavy at times.

Yes, it’s very heavy sometimes (laughs). There’s a song on the new album called “Hong Kong Superstore,” about when me and my boys are tired and we are travelin’ and we don’t have someone to fill us up, and there’s no vessel for us to lay inside of and find our energy to keep going. So, we created a place called the Hong Kong Superstore, and that’s where we take ourselves together to recharge and deal with the weight of all of these wonderful people on our shoulders.

How did Peaches influence Basura?

We were working together and tourin’, and there’s a song on the album called “Traincake.” That song is secretly a little bit for Peaches. I have not told her that, but it’s all about enjoyin’ the pussy, but it’s playful and there’s a playfulness to Peaches. Peaches taught me there’s longevity in our life, in our work, if we stay true to it. There’s just so many different directions you can funnel your cray.

You have put your music in literal holes. “Bustin’ Brown” comes to mind.

Literal holes. I have climbed through buttholes for you. Big ones.

What can we expect from your upcoming tour?

We can all expect some more theatrical faggotry, and you can definitely expect more intimacy in my deep, dark hole up on that stage.

Michael Sharkey

Are people scared of you?

There are people who are scared of me. I think what might scare people from this album (laughs) is the album isn’t classifiable, and we come from monkeys, and if we can’t classify it, we start bangin’ our heads and jumpin’ around and poopin’ on things. I don’t try to be provocative. I just fucking like to see how everybody reacts when they get served it up. If they can get through the first three songs and wait for me to talk, they will stay. And they most always do. But we had people throw things at us and leave. Those were actually little boys.

What did they throw at you?

They were carrying their little festival book and they came in and then they just threw the book on the stage at us, flicked us off and left. But I like when people do that because now them boys have my face ingrained in their brains forever, and they have to wake up the next day and they have to ask themselves what made them leave. And one day, when their life goes a little cuckoo, they’re gonna have to ask themselves, “What about that moment made them throw a book and freak the shit out?” and I’m glad I was there to arrange that.

Do you take it as a compliment when someone walks out of one of your shows?

I’m not really strivin’ for that, but it sure as shit lets me know that the people out there are alive.

Detroit-ish based writer-editor, Meryl Streep stan. Thought I’d retire after Mariah Carey called me a “dahhling,” but here I am.