Outsider art: Where the genre and Hulk Hogan's music intersect

When I began my teenage immersion into subculture-type things, I also began laughing at people. To prove that I was cool, I had to make fun of what wasn’t cool (I doubt I fooled anyone). My inferiority complex triumphed over my moral compass; therefore, I engaged in some punching down. This included an ironic engagement with art that was too sloppy to ever be beloved by a mass audience. Later in our timeline, websites such as Everything is Terrible! would create institutions around this kind of mockery. "Look at these nimrods," we think to ourselves. "What were they thinking? I am superior to them!"

This kind of expression that we may ridicule is known as outsider art. Since this is the music section of this publication, I will be specifically writing about outsider music. What differentiates this kind of music from hip avant-garde fare is the intent. The latter revels in its own weirdness, often trying to manufacture weirdness where there is none. Its badge of honor is how antithetical it is to the mainstream. The musicians are in on it.

On the other hand, the outsider musician’s primary goal is sincerity, not quirk. The quirk ends up being a natural byproduct of the messiness of it all. Since sincerity is the least cool trait of all, these artists make themselves easy targets in a magical cyberworld where anyone can be a bully.

I have grown to embrace outsider music genuinely. There are two reasons for this: Number one: I no longer like being a judgmental asshole. Number two: I’ve encountered enough manufactured manic-pixie-dream-strangeness to appreciate when someone is the real deal. It feels energizing to encounter people who are not only unapologetically themselves, but also don’t fit in with a crowd trying to be weird in the same way. It’s a way of living that comes naturally to children; when you and your peers live long enough, it becomes a rare commodity.
There are two types of outsider musicians. Firstly, there is the proletariat underdog, the unschooled creative mind who makes sound with whatever they can afford. It can be fun to marvel at and deride this kind of work, especially in the age of YouTube and Instagram, when we are so rich in these resources. Do the performers deserve the mockery for putting something unpolished and sincere out into the world? Probably not.

It feels more justified to laugh at the second kind of outsider artist, because this kind of person comes from a much higher tax bracket. They are the privileged celebrities who can make music as a vanity project. Unlike the working person who needs to carve out time and resources to create their work, the celebrity is saying, “Look at what I can do just because I can! It’ll get more attention than anything you ever do, just because I’m me!” Therefore, if we can’t pull a Robin Hood and rob them to redistribute wealth, the least we can do is make fun of their music.

This brings me to my first selection in this ongoing series, which happens to have been my first exposure to the outsider music genre. I was sixteen and hanging out at the apartment of my Deadhead neighbor, Herb. He put on a CD he found at Goodwill, laughing before he even hit the 'play' button (maybe it wasn’t just because of the music). The album was "Hulk Rules," released in 1995 by Hulk Hogan and the Wrestling Boot Band.

Even by piece-of-shit standards, Terry “Hulk Hogan” Bollea was a real piece-of-shit. When I idolized him in the early '90s, I couldn’t have fathomed the possibility of what a racist garbage dump he would later reveal himself to be (To be fair, I couldn’t fathom much. I was seven.) In 2001, when Herb played this album for me, the Hulkster’s dark side had yet to be made public; he was still a squeaky-clean WWF wrestler who promoted healthy living and acted in bad movies–a proto Dwayne Johnson. For an angry teenager who resented Hogan’s broken promises that prayers and vitamins would equal happiness, finding out that he musically shit the bed filled me with glee.

The album was co-produced by Hogan, his ex-wife Linda Bollea, '60s rock star-turned-wrestling manager Jimmy Hart, and the late wrestler-theme-song machine J.J. Maguire. (Hogan also claimed that Simon Cowell was involved. Cowell is not in the credits.) He provided his trademark gruff vocal delivery for many of the songs, though it’s really obvious when it’s not him, like with the flamboyant butt-metal falsetto in “American Made.” Hogan also put his lifelong bass-playing experience to good use. Maybe someday, footage will be unearthed of him trying out to be the bassist of Metallica. (He claims this happened; Metallica has denied it.) As was the case with the 1985 outsider WWF classic "The Wrestling Album" (which may be covered here later), Hulk Rules was a collector’s item to help line the pockets of very rich men. As such, time was not put into giving The Wrestling Boot Band a clear musical identity. It leaps from genre to genre, and not in that Beck kinda way. Based on the power chords and chant-along vocals of the intro track ”Hulkster’s in the House,” you might assume upon first listen that this is trying to be a hard rock album. But before you know it, you’re listening to a rap song, “Hulkster’s Back.” It begins with spoken-word valley girl expressions that may have been inspired by Frank and Moon Zappa, before Hogan comes in with a verse about California as if he’s trying to be Tupac.

“Hulk Rules” features him rapping on two other tracks: “Beach Patrol” (a rap-rock Run-DMC knock-off) and “I Wanna Be a Hulkamaniac” (a cult anthem that would make Kim Jong-Un envious). Jimmy Hart sings the country-adjacent road anthem “Wrestling Boot Travelling Band” and “Bad to the Bone.” (not the George Thorogood song–it’s a different “let’s drink and rock” kinda song). Linda Bollea sings her husband’s praises on “Hulk’s the One,” and the closing title-track’s song title reminds us that “Hulk Rules.” (The words “Hulk,” “Hulkster,” or “Hulkamaniac” appear in six of the album’s ten song titles).

Near the end of his life, Hulk Hogan made his allegiance to Donald Trump public at the latter’s presidential rally. One of the reasons that this makes sense is because both have been infamous for making shit up and saying random shit because it sounded good at the time. A good example of this is Hogan’s crowning musical achievement: the ballad “Hulkster in Heaven.” It’s a Casio horn wet dream that could’ve been a nod to the Leonard Cohen album “I’m Your Man.” In a 90s BBC interview (1993: HULK HOGAN - Is WRESTLING FAKE? | Pebble Mill | Classic Interviews | BBC Archive), he compared it to Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven,” saying it was inspired by “this kid James” ( that he was reading about in People Magazine who was murdered by another child. At other times ("Hanging with Hogan: Backstage with the Legend"), he claimed he wrote this song about a kid he met through the Make-A-Wish foundation. According to Hulk, when he wrestled at Wembley Stadium in 1992 (Note: He did not wrestle at Wembley Stadium in 1992), he noticed an empty seat and later learned that the Make-A-Wish kid he met hadn’t filled that seat because he was now dead.

For several reasons, Hulk Hogan’s public image tanked during the last several years of his life. It all culminated in his final TV appearance, which was on Monday Night Raw’s debut on Netflix in January of this year (Hulk Hogan getting boo'd out of the arena: Raw, Jan. 6, 2025). He and Jimmy Hart came out for what appeared to be a promotion for his new beer, Real American Beer. The Los Angeles crowd unanimously booed him and his beer as if he had told them he'd run over their pets. Maybe his recent appearance at a Trump rally was the straw that broke the camel’s back for this likely left-leaning California crowd. How much their dissatisfaction that night may have had to do with the “Hulk Rules” album is unclear. It would’ve been the only hate that he maybe didn’t deserve.

Sadly, I don’t see “Hulk Rules” streaming on anything other than YouTube videos. You can find a copy, but they’re not plentiful. One could assume that its scarcity comes from it not being meant to be a lasting artifact to begin with. But Hogan was a major music enthusiast with a legitimate background in the field, so one could also assume this was a true outsider album–an oddity created with naivety and love. When listened to with that in mind, it’s an enjoyable listen. And as is the case with other outsider albums, there’s an empowering element in listening to it.

Think of it this way: Hulk Hogan put music into the world; therefore, you can too.