Les Claypool
Of Whales And Whoe

Askew sounds, tortuous distortions, grotesque sneers, changes in atmosphere, toxic groove, instinctive funk, quirky experimentation, lucid madness, energy, momentum, aggressiveness, tension, visions... and above all an electric bass constantly firing low-frequency bullets that can produce pleasant visceral contortions with intermittent and jerky electric discharges in the brain.

This could be a brief description of "Of Whales And Woe", the first album released under the name of Les Claypool, the pyrotechnic bassist of Primus. An album that allows him to fully express his volcanic and extroverted personality capable of spanning music, cinema, and even literature, given that this CD was conceived during the writing of his first novel titled "South Of The Pumphouse" and the preparation of the documentary "Electric Apricot: Quest for Festeroo", in which he appears in the unusual role of director.

Nevertheless, today let's limit ourselves to the music, which is no small thing. Indeed, through guitar, saxophone, percussion, vibraphone, marimba, vocals, sitar and, of course, electric bass - dominant and omnipresent in these twelve songs - Claypool takes us through his quirky musical world where opposites seem to coexist. Here are sounds that traverse claustrophobic atmospheres ("Back Off Turkey"), but also funky and strident accelerations, like in the compelling "One Better". There are also more acid moments like the marching progress of "Lust Stings", which leaves the impression and fear that something unhealthy is coming out of your stereo. And it is in these moments, in some estranging combinations dominated by discomfort, that it is hard not to think of Tom Waits, with whom Claypool has collaborated since the album "Mule Variations". In other passages, furthermore, the ghost of Pomona becomes more evident, as in the mad carousel music of "Robot Chicken": just 40 seconds of hallucinations in a sort of half-sleep among masks and puppets with a subtle underlying uneasiness spying on you from hiding.

But that's not all. Subtle boundaries between sound and noise alternate with magnificent absurdities like in the recitative of "Vernon The Company Man" with a buzzing sitar and hypnotic percussion in the background, or in the depths of "Phantom Patriot" given by the tight dialogue between bass and saxophone, or again in the alchemies of "Rumble Of The Diesel" not to mention the crazy duet between sitar and bass in "Filipino Ray". In short, it is really hard to get bored listening to this album. You might find it indigestible or fascinating, but it certainly won't leave you indifferent, and amidst the monotony of a thousand musical proposals praising the sterilization of imagination, in itself this is already good news.