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Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to complete madness!
These are Primus and this is their first album "Frizzle Fry" (1990).
Les Claypool on bass pursues the impossible, reaches it, and outpaces it like Stoner's Ducati with Rossi's Yamaha on the straight of the Chinese track; his voice is ungraceful, irreverent, out of tune, you either love it or hate it, there’s nothing you can do about it, and I, despite loving powerful, warm, and in-tune voices like Chris Cornell, Robert Plant, Ian Gillan, Eddie Vedder... I can't help but love him... He makes me laugh to death and amazes me every single time.. His voice fits, it always fits, it is the necessary complement to Primus's music, there couldn't be any other... Every time I hear Les sing and play (playing is a bit reductive in his case) the bass, the image that materializes for me is of Popeye chugging a can of spinach and bending the bass to his will with fingers that frantically dart over the neck and strings, yet his voice remains unchanged...
I hope I got the idea across...
Larry LaLonde's guitar is effective and tremendously ingenious in following the riffs that good old Les dictates, it stays silent when it must, as drums and bass cover everything worthily even without it, to amaze with solos that send cold shivers down your spine, sometimes it only hints with background mumblings, sometimes it explodes...
Tim Alexander is not a man, he is a drum machine, with his crazy doubles, stop & go, impressive work on anything he touches, light jazz just in the right measure where these acrobats have moments of respite, devastating prog accelerations, funky, metal power when he bangs, technique taken to the extreme.. One of the best drummers I've ever heard, sometimes I have a hard time believing what my ears hear...
How to define Primus? How to categorize them? What music do they make? The answer that comes to mind is: funky-progressive-hardcore-punk-rock-metal-jazz-freeacidpsychedelicjazz etc... The second answer, which seems to me the most plausible is: how the hell should I know? These guys play in an insanely kickass way and have balls that touch their chins! Who the hell cares what genre they are?
The only comparison I find possible to the unruliness and sonic depravity of Primus is Mr. Bungle by another madman, Mike Patton; indeed, only deviants can understand each other.
Special mention for the cover, truly one of the most beautiful and ingenious ever seen..
The album in question is a concentrate of insane fragments, breath-taking tempo changes, Leonardo-like inventions in music, the rhythm section would make anyone pale just from the first track "To Defy The Laws Of Tradition" (with an initial homage to Rush), six minutes and forty (!) of pure technical lessons in bass, guitar, and especially drums, doubled beyond belief, super-fast rolls, violent breaks, jazz lines, complete delirium accompany Les doing whatever he wants. The guitar sometimes follows it, sometimes diverges, then, after a fantastic bass and percussion interlude, it launches into a splendid solo. The voice is as irreverent as it gets, mocking, sometimes it seems it's all a joke and that Les sings deliberately like that, but secretly has a good voice.. It’s not true... The songs, take the next one "Too many puppies", are real puzzles that can be deciphered in billions of ways (the beginning reminds of "Blind" by Korn...), it's not possible to fully describe them in a few words, you just have to listen to them over and over again to realize. Listen to "Frizzle Fry" to understand who you are dealing with, the heaviness of the bass and drum riff, the guitarist’s genius, the thousand tempo changes, the monstrous prog acceleration at the end, technique personified bows to these three. Or "John the fisherman" with its timings and countertimings, "Pudding time", "Harold of the rocks"...
Each track is worthy of praise.
Dedicated to those who thought Flea was the best bassist around and Red Hot the best funky band on the planet..
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
03 Too Many Puppies (03:57)
Too many puppies are being shot in the dark.
Too many puppies are trained not to bark.
At the sight of blood that must be spilled so that we may maintain
our oil fields.
Too many puppies.
Too many puppies.
Too many puppies are taught to heel.
Too many puppies are trained to kill.
On the command of men wearing money belts that buy mistresses
sleek animal pelts.
Too many puppies.
Too many puppies.
Too many puppies.
Too many puppies.
Too many puppies with guns in their hands.
Too many puppies in foreign lands.
Are dressed up sharp in suits of green and placed upon the war
machine.
Too many puppies are just like me.
Too many puppies are afraid to see.
The visions of the past brought to life again,
too many puppies, too many dead men.
04 Mr. Knowitall (03:51)
They call me Mr. Knowitall
I will not compromise.
I will not be told what to do.
I shall not step aside.
They call me Mr. Knowitall
I have no time to waste.
My mouth it spews pure intellect.
And I've such elegant taste.
They call me Mr. Knowitall.
I sup the aged wine.
Oh I could tell such wonderous tales
if I should find the time.
I must be Mr. Knowitall
For ideas they come in bounds.
I am Mr. Knowitall
So spread the word around.
They call me Mr. Knowitall
I am so eloquent.
Perfection is my middle name
And whatever rhymes with eloquent.
05 Frizzle Fry (06:04)
Hello all you boys and girls
I'd like to take you to the
inside world
It's quite an irregular place
to be.
But never fear you're safe
with me.
Well,Maybe
Golden hair of macrame'
Agaisnts the face that's
cut from stone.
The white porcelain is
screaming ayee.
Thank God the boy is not
alone
I don't believe in santa claus
I don't believe in spite
I have no use for beauty
dolls.
Especially on this night.
I don't believe in miracles.
I don't believe in lies.
I don't believe in hologram.
For I am the frizzle fry.
Andy's painted green again.
This time they might take him
away.
When barrington starts to
breath again.
It may just take us all away.
I don't believe in charity.
I don't believe in sin.
And if you don't believe in me,
we'll play this tune over
again.
I don't believe in Pinochle
and I dont believe I'll try.
I do believe in Captian Crunch
For I am the frizzle fry
Yes I am the frizzle fry
06 John the Fisherman (03:37)
One...two...
One, two, three, four.
When he was young
You'd not find him doing well in school.
His mind would turn unto the waters.
Always the focus of adolescent ridicule,
He has no time for farmer's daughters.
Alienated from the clique society,
A lonely boy finds peace in fishing.
His mother says,
"John, this is not the way life's supposed to be."
"Don't you see the life that you miss?"
And he says...
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Now years gone by we find the man who rules the sea.
He sets out on a dark May morning.
To bring his catch back to this small community.
He doesn't see the danger dawning.
Four hours up, oh the ocean swelled and swelled,
The fog rolled in it started raining.
"The starboard bow! Oh my God we're going down!"
They do not hear his frantic mayday.
And he says...
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
"I'll live and die a fisherman."
Calling John the Fisherman...
08 The Toys Go Winding Down (04:35)
An over aged boy of thirty-nine has left the wing today
The first time in his life he's made that step
Be numbed by the society and plagued by insecurity
He's entered a race that must be one
One of the animals has left it's cage today
In search of better things, so it seems to be
But in this land of polyurethane
Things are apt to get a bit hot
As the toys go winding down
C.G. the Mexican is a friend of mine
We used to sit around the house watching Evil Dead
Talking about the way it used to be...
We used to pull the stripers out of San Pablo Bay
Now the delta waters go down So.Cal.
And the stripers start to fade away
It's pudding time
It's pudding time!
As the toys go winding down
09 Pudding Time (04:08)
You can have a lolly pop
a candy bar a jelly bean.
I'll buy you a rainbow
to hang above your door.
It's pudding time.
Laughter is a sweet
You can't put a price on.
When laughter's all gone
Daddy won't buy you more.
It's pudding time.
It's pudding time children.
Money money money
To buy you things.
Daddy's gonna buy you a
diamond ring.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
San Francisco bay the
Striped bass are dying.
But you're gonna get
That brand new bike
Oh joy
It's pudding time
It's pudding time children.
11 Spegetti Western (05:43)
Why do we do this C.G. and I?
Every night vegetables,
Minds numbed up by THC.
I've got my pen, C.G. the remote.
Laurel and Hardy's the best bet at four A.M. On a Friday
No dreads about the working day after though.
Funny thing about weekends When you're unemployed.
They don't quite mean so much,
except you get to hang out with all youur working friends.
Well we got us a spegetti western on 36.
I like spegetti westerns
I like the way the boots are all reverbed out
walking across the hardwood floors.
In fact, everything's got
that big reverb sound.
Well what'll I do now?
Go to sleep.
Pull the pud.
We need new pornos.
Well, I guess I'm still writing...
12 Harold of the Rocks (06:17)
t was a weekend's eve,
I had sex on my breath
I was lookin' for somethin' to see.
With a borrowed black leather
And my best fishin' hat.
Well, it was just Wendy O. and me.
We called old Swamp
Up on the telephone
And said we was comin' on
Down to pick him up
and then, he said,
"Hey Swampy, me and Greeny'll come along -
But only if we can bring a friend."
"His name is Harold."
I said "Okay."
Now, we had a
Swamper, Greeny, Wendy O, Stanley,
Harold of the Rocks and me.
We hopped into my dart
And headed for the nightbreak
To see a man they call Schooly D.
Harold he's a friendly guy.
He rambles on and on.
He'll talk the balls off a rhinosaurus.
Fact is, he just doesn't make much sense.
"Well", Stan said.
"This guy's pretty bizarre, Gus."
Harold of the Rocks.
I saw Harold at a party
Trouzy threw late one night.
I said, "hey man,
Do you remember me?"
He said, "O' course
I do Snapdad and
Let me tell ya right
'Bout now I'm lit
Up like an ol' Christmas tree."
Hey bro you know I'd
like to thank you once again for let'n me
Hang with ya' all across the bay.
when I look back at that night I get me a
Warm spot across my heart."
Then he shook my hand, and walked away.
That's the last I seen of Harold.
Harold of the Rocks.
So in the end,
Swamper and Greeny
Finally succumb to
The ways of Harold.
And in doing so
Each gave just a little bit
Of his soul away.
What a couple of dumbshits.
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