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Rating:
"Alea Iacta Est"
And the fateful moment has arrived for me as well, my knees are shaking..., the moment of my first review on this site, discovered almost by chance only a few days ago (I humbly beg forgiveness for this unforgivable oversight).
To avoid any misunderstandings, I will make a premise, in such a way that perhaps the flow of my narrative can be better understood: it will be a true and unconditional declaration of love towards the band and the album that represent the absolute pinnacle of my long and complex musical journey, which began in the early eighties. A journey back in time and memory, hoping it will be a source of help in recalling. That said, let's omit further useless introductory ornaments and start the navigation...in the seas of cheese.
First of all, I want to thank Les, Larry, and Tim (for the fans of the band and for completeness, I deliberately won't mention Mantia and Jay, the other two impeccable drummers who took turns in the band's career, because I consider this first formation unbeatable), who with the passage of years and after hundreds of listens of their challenging and intricate, yet original proposal, managed in the not so easy task of dethroning from the heights of my listening a trio of musicians I rightly considered unsurpassable; I am referring to the "Dire Straits," "Bob Dylan," and the "Pink Floyd" in strict alphabetical order...I imagine someone already scoffs and stops reading here: feel free to do so...de gustibus, of course.
Everything and its opposite have already been said about its absurd cover and the title of the work in question; for years, there have been two reviews on the site that describe well what it refers to. I add that when the work came out and I bought it in May 1991, I ruined my eyesight reading and trying to translate with the dictionary the contorted texts handwritten in a script, damn you Les, for many parts incomprehensible. My dear readers, at that time Google Translate and the internet were a dream.
Even on the previous musical backgrounds of the three, numerous articles have been written, which I encourage searching for and reading (a little help among colleagues: "Blind Illusion and Possessed"). The same goes for technical skill: Les, a bassist, technically indescribable by me, also because I am not a musician, I don't know a note of the staff, I don't understand a bit of technique; I like to define guitarist Larry as an insane and absurd cross between Alex Lifeson of "Rush" and Robert Fripp of "King Crimson" and he was a student of a certain Joe Satriani (good heavens..); what to say personally about drummer Tim: broken rhythms, progressive-paced gallops that don't give breath, odd times galore (maybe!!).
And let's talk about their style and influences; a mixture of genres with few comparisons in the entire world of music: funk, metal, progressive, blues (sick), jazz-fusion, country, psychedelia (distorted). In their irreverent and ironic proposal, we can find clear musical elements attributable to the "Pink Floyd, Resident, Pere Ubu, Minutemen, George Clinton", plus the two bands mentioned in the description of the guitarist's sound, etc., etc. All with the supervision of another eclectic figure in the music world, namely the late (double sigh) Frank Zappa.. and here I pause for a minute to remember with emotion the genius of Baltimore.
The good Les has agreed with all music critics, and not only, who have wasted years of their lives in the futile attempt to categorize this so strange and sick proposal with a single definition. The frenetic bassist has defined the band's sound as "psychedelic-polka"... the surreal circle has thus been closed. The album is a kind of concept with never trivial lyrics that connect to the musical style of the three circus phenomena, describing outcast characters living on the margins of society; crazy stories narrated with the voice of a living cartoon by Les.
To the cry of "Primus sucks," the album unfolds through whirling rounds of notes in just over 45 minutes and 13 songs that I don't want to analyze with a track-by-track, which I consider useless even to me due to the insane complexity of the matter in question; I would let myself be captured by the sordid charm that these songs represented in my distant youth and could extend infinitely. I only cite the penultimate track "Fish on," almost 8 minutes of total sonic catharsis, of swirling climbs and descents, with lyrics perfect to describe the perverse minds of ours; such wonder represents for me the absolute peak of the entire work of the band. Close your eyes, let yourself be guided by emotions as I do every time I put so much stuff in my player and set off for the long journey... Poetry in music... The number ONE and it could not be otherwise with the brilliant name they bear. We are almost at the end...for the few who are still holding on.
Everything that has been written came out of the keyboard with heart in hand, guided by emotions and not by the brain, without caring for sure grammatical or punctuation errors (I apologize to the editors for the hard work); and most importantly, it’s all my own stuff, surfaced with utmost joy: and it is the Truth. Believe me, and with this, I do not want to justify the criticisms that will pour in: I prefer a review like mine, as banal as you want, retro, written by a nostalgic older person full of himself, than cold pages of limitless emptiness, black as pitch, useless, a continuous copy-paste from the internet as I have unfortunately had to notice online (obviously not referring to Debaser where everyone is excellent at writing....). With this, I don't want to teach anyone anything, far from it, but just how I think about the art of music, I will rarely come back with one of my reviews...at this point someone will certainly be happy with this last thought of mine. I will only continue to comment on works that I think deserve, falsely modest, my attention. That is that, but how much I have written....!!!!!.......Verbose..
I'm done (finally); I leave you with my ironic note (which unfortunately is often missing on Debasio).
"The review of De...Marga...sucks, but PRIMUS doesn't"...but perhaps the opposite is also true. To you the difficult judgment.
Ad maiora....as a professor from my high school days, recently passed away, used to say....To the good old days that were.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 Seas of Cheese (00:42)
When the going gets tough
And the stomach acids flow
The cold wind of conformity
Is nipping at your nose
When some trendy new atrocity
Has brought you to your knees
Come with us we'll sail the
Seas of Cheese
02 Here Come the Bastards (02:54)
Here they come
Here come the bastards
I heard it from a confidant -
Who heard it from a confidant
They're definitely on their way
There's one with this idea
Something about a
hammer head shark
Nosehairs and flatus
Best keep your distance because
Here they come
here come the bastards
Bury your head deep in the sand
Anonyminity is a virtue
in this day and age
Amazing hand dexterity
Flagrant misuse of security
Better run, run, run, run, run
Run Run Run Run, here they come.
03 Sgt. Baker (04:16)
Sergeant Baker is my name
I'm gonna teach you how to play the game of warfare
Suddenly it appears to me
You got a bit much dignity for your own good, boy
(Yes sir, yes sir)
I will rape your personality
Pummel you with my own philosophy
Strip you of your self integrity
To make you all just a bit like me
I said right, left, right, left
Sergeant Baker, here again
And if you call me Puddin' Tame
Well, I'll stomp you down, boy
(Uh-huh)
Steers and queers, steers and queers
Where you come from there's just steers and queers
And you ain't got no horns, boy
(Yes sir, yes sir)
I will rape your personality
Pummel you with my own philosophy
Strip you of your self-integrity
To make you all just a bit like me
I say right, left, right, left
I say right, left, right, left
One, two...
Sergeant Baker is my name
I'm gonna teach you how to play the game of warfare
Suddenly it appears to me
You got a bit much dignity for your own good, boy
(Yes sir, yes sir)
I said right, left, right, left
(repeat)
04 American Life (04:32)
In a town in southernmost Sicily
Lived a family too proud to be poor
In the year that fever took father away
They hastened for American shores
Now a mother and her son are standing in line
It's a cold day on Ellis Isle
And they look to the Statue of Liberty
For the boy we have American Life
Ong is a Laotian refugee
He works in the audio trade
The smoke from flux is filling his lungs
He's earning minimum wage
Spending spare time down on
San Pablo ave
Once a week gets a woman for the night
And he writes home tales of prosperity
For the boy we have American Life
Bob is an unemployed veteran
Born and bred in the South Bronx
He's living off the streets down in east L.A.
Residing in a cardboard box
Now he plays a little quit and he has a small dog
Searching for aluminum cans
And he hold on tight to his dignity
He was born into American Life
05 Jerry Was a Race Car Driver (03:10)
Jerry was a race car driver
He drove so goddamned fast
He never did win no checkered flag
But he never did come in last
Jerry was a race car driver
He'd say "El solo number one"
With a bocephus sticker on his 442
He'd light 'em up just for fun
Captain Pierce was a fireman
Richmond engine #3
I'll be a wealthy man when I get a dime
For all the things that man taught to me
Captain Pierce was a strong man
Strong as any man alive
It stuck in his craw
That they made him retire at the age of 65
"Dog will hunt"
Jerry was a race car driver
22 years old
Had too many cold beers one night
And wrapped himself around a telephone pole
06 Eleven (04:19)
I just can't seem to blend
Into society
I have no hope for this dim
Simplicity of law and order
By whose rules I see no rhyme in
the reason
I hold no hope for this holy treason
Of love and so soft
By whose standards
They tell me, they tell me
Who are they, who is they
07 Is It Luck? (03:27)
My socks and shoes always match
Is it luck?
There's a foot at the end of each of my legs
Is it luck?
Well, I can play my bass for you
Is it luck?
Some gals like to kiss my face
Is it luck? Is it luck
Is it luck? x5
Is it luck, luck, luck, well is it?
There was food inside your mouth today
Is it luck?
Your barber cuts your hair just so
Is it luck?
Well, you can caunt to ten and back again
Is it luck?
When the taste of sex is on you lips
Is it luck? Is it luck?
Is it luck? x5
Is it luck, well is it?
Cyanide works oh so fast
Is it luck?
Polyester makes you sweat
Is it luck?
If a grahm cracker gets you off
Is it luck?
Love, Love?
Is it luck? Is it luck?
Is it luckx6
Is it luck, well is it?
Said she wanted my body, not my mind.
So, I showed her my dictionary,
showed her the words that I know,
not quite desiring to and how loquacious
I can be when I set my mind down to it.
But she wasn't impressed.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!!!
She wasn't impressed at all, she whispered in my ear.
She whispered in my ear and she said
"Do you want to get lucky, little boy?"
Well, I smiled. Smiled and I said
Is it luck? x6
Is is luck?
Luck x17
Is it luck? x4
09 Tommy the Cat (04:15)
" well I remember as though it were a meal ago"
Said Tommy the Cat as he reeled back to clear whatever foreign matter
may have nestled its way into his mighty throat.
Many a fat alley rat had met its demise while staring point blank down
the cavernous barrel of this awesome prowling machine.
Truly a wonder of nature this urban predator.
Tommy the cat had many a story to tell,
But it was a rare occasion such as this that he did.
She came slidin' down the alleyway like butter drippin' off a hot biscuit.
The aroma, the mean scent, was enough to arouse suspicion in even the
oldest of Tigers that hung around the hot spot in those days.
The sight was beyond belief.
Many a head snapped for double - even triple - takes as this vivacious
feline made her her way into the delta of the alleyway where the most
virile of the young tabbys were known to hang out.
They hung in droves. Such a multitude of masculinity could only be
found in one place...
And that was O'malley's Alley.
The air was thick with cat calls (no pun intended),
But not even a muscle in her neck did twitch
as she sauntered straight into the heart of the alleyway.
She knew what she wanted.
She was lookin' for that stud bull, she was looking for that he cat.
And that was me.
Tommy the Cat is my name and I say unto thee...
Say baby do you wanna lay down with me
Say baby do you wanna lay down by my side
Ah baby do you wanna lay down with me
Say baby?...Say baby?
11 Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers (05:19)
I've seen them out at Soco
They're pounding sixteen penny nails
The truckers on the interstate
Have been known to ride the rails
The sweat is beating on the brow
Can't keep these fellas down
'Cause those damned blue-collared tweekers
Are runnin' this here town
I knew a man who hung drywall
He hung it mighty quick
A trip or two to the blue room
Would help him do the trick
His foreman would pat him on the back
Whenever he would come around
'Cause these dammed blue-collar tweekers
Are beloved in this here town
Now the union boys are there
To protect us from all the corporate type
While curious George's drug patrol
Is out here hunting snipe
Now they try to tell me different
But you know I ain't no clown
'Cause those damned blue-collar tweekers
Are the backbone of this town
Now the flame that burns twice as bright
Burns only half as long
My eyes are growing weary
As I finalize this song
So sit back and have a cup o' joe
And watch the wheels go round
'Cause those damned blue-collar tweekers
Have always run this town
13 Los Bastardos (02:38)
"You bastards!"
Here they come... (repeat)
"Shut up, you bastards!"
"You just called me a bastard, didn't you?"
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Other reviews
By lafinedelcastagno
The ability to make pieces based on absurd tapping, menacing march-nursery rhymes, and seemingly erratic bass lines irresistible and even catchy.
Ultimately this album is perhaps the pinnacle of the production of the San Francisco trio... and after 13 years it remains ever-current.
By il trucido
Once you finish listening to this CD you’ll be forced to admit that Les Claypool is a genius.
Their Funk-metal crossover blues is incredibly infectious, sick, acidic, and mad.
