Way back when in 1993, the musician Prince changed his name to a symbol.

People were confused – what to call the ‘Purple Rain’ man, and what exactly was he trying to say?

You can find all of those details in our story following his death, but of course he’s not alone in terms of names that make one go ‘huh’?

For some it’s a marketing gimmick, for others it’s an artistic statement – we’ll let you decide.

The Guardian picked some oddities so let’s take a look at those:

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When the enduring Brooklyn dance-punks emerged in around 2000, they said you could pronounce their triple-exclamation name with any trio of monosyllables, though Chk Chk Chk was the one that stuck. Saying “Pyow Pyow Pyow” like a child with a laser would have been my choice, but never mind.

∆

This is the actual name for Alt-J, and, after three albums of underwritten, maddeningly vague nothing-pop, remains the most notable thing about them. The triangle is what you get when you tap alt-J on a keyboard; the ennui you experience explaining this tedious conceit is a neat distillation of their entire oeuvre.

Clearly not a fan.

If you’re a fan of laughing at Alt-J you should probably check out this video:

Okes are smoking the good stuff.

ttttttttttttttttttttt

“I accidentally put my finger down on the t on the keyboard while I was searching up YouTube and this is what I find”, as one listener says. As marketing strategies go, it’s perhaps not the most finessed, but let’s just call this Montreal duo “t” for the sake of argument. Their echoing freak-folk tracks, like woo-tooo-i-ooo-t’ooo, are essayed across five Bandcamp releases, and nicely recall Animal Collective or Sunburned Hand of the Man.

†‡†

The late-noughties “witch house” scene featured emaciated white people re-embracing heroin chic and making dystopian rap instrumentals, as an excuse for some very silly band names. †‡†, also known as Ritualz, was up against the likes of ///▲▲▲\\\, oOoOO and M△S▴C△RA.

OK, let’s deal with that rather odd picture all the way up top. That would be an album cover from Eximperituserqethhzebibšiptugakkathšulweliarzaxułum, a name that starts off just fine and then unravels:

 This Minsk band make comically punishing death metal, full of endlessly pummelling floor toms and guttural roaring, and helpfully explain their name thus: “It entirely reveals the unutterable name of the antiuniverse. When divided into fragments, it creates the magic spell of the formless Lords of the prior Darkness.”

Be sure to check out their 2016 album Prajecyrujučy Sinhuliarnaje Wypramieńwańnie Daktryny Absaliutnaha J Usiopahłynaĺnaha Zła Skroź Šaścihrannuju Pryzmu Sîn-Ahhī-Erība Na Hipierpawierchniu Zadyjakaĺnaha Kaŭčęha Zasnawaĺnikaŭ Kosmatęchničnaha Ordęna Palieakantakta, Najstaražytnyja Ipastasi Dawosiewych Cywilizacyj Prywodziać U Ruch Ręzanansny Transfarmatar Časowapadobnaj Biaskoncaści Budučyni U Ćwiardyniach Absierwatoryi Nwn-Hu-Kek-Amon, Uwasabliajučy Ŭ Ęfirnuju Matęryju Prach Ałulima Na Zachad Ad Ękzapłaniety PSRB 1620-26b.

That album is fine, but I actually liked their earlier stuff before they became, like, so commercial.

Almost makes Steve Hofmeyr seem like less of a pretentious prick.

Almost.

[source:guardian]