• Rating:
To most, this four-handed work will seem sordid, superfluous, but here's the duel that involved the arrogant and impertinent De…Marga and Almo about the new Primus LP, "The Desaturating Seven," due out on September 29 (an evident tribute to Mogol).
This LP deserves a truly unequal reception, that is, unparalleled. After spending a lifetime hating elves, Les Claypool finally decides to dedicate an entire album to goblins. If you hear it said that the inspiration comes from a little book Claypool read to his kids to help them fall asleep, that's, precisely, nonsense! The reality is more prosaic. The point is that the goblin is short, and what does Les play? Then the infamous Clash Royale, with its blowgun goblins, notoriously sons of a blowgun, did the rest. It is well known that he plays it compulsively and does not use a pseudonym.
After "Green Naugahyde," Les spent two years as a keeper at the Gringotts wizard bank, then he allied with Sauron to make "Primus & The Chocolate Factory With The Fungi Ensemble" in a secret location in Arda. Then, after resolving some legal troubles (twenty-four, editor's note), he returned with his old friends, Tim and Larry, to do a bit of what he does best: pulp of psychedelic polka.
Les definitively imposes himself here as a contrapuntist, as an architect, but also as a maestro, for whom dance is a reason for living and a constant source of inspiration. Thus, this time, he pays homage to the Polonaise, the Minuet, the Gigue, and the Sarabande. The same idea Bach had for the Brandenburg Concertos. Les is really great! Even Sean Lennon noticed it, who wanted to co-name an album with him.
The lyrics are well-crafted, suffering a bit from the typical goblin rickets, but they are well-crafted.
We might say that the promotional track, "The Seven", the classic summer hit, vaguely resembles "Here Comes The Bastards", but no. It's just an identical carbon copy. But what does it matter? The other six tracks, besides making good use of the definite article, are halfway between "Salmon Man" and "The Last Salmon Man". After three days, they stink. A Plautine memory.
The bass acrobatics are no less spectacular than in "Antipop" and approach the glories of "Rhinoplasty". So Les is always Claypool, although here, hear, Larry LaLonde takes the lead: to some it might seem like "a crazy and absurd cross between Alex Lifeson of Rush and Robert Fripp" of Giles, Giles & Fripp. But to the more attentive, the resemblance to Dorothy "Dot" Wiggin, lead guitarist of the Shaggs, will not go unnoticed. As for Les, obviously, there are always great women behind a great group, he increasingly resembles Rachel Wiggin, the fourth Shagg. Beard included.
In short, "The Desaturating Seven" will certainly not be like sailing in a sea of cheese, but at least stepping on a Formaggino Mio, yes. That yes.
So, now a question comes to mind: with Primus reaching the milestone of their ninth album, will they still be able to surprise us, if not excite us? As far as I am concerned, no doubt about it: they definitely will, and that's no small feat considering the overall flattening of musical values in recent years. In their almost three-decade career, they have managed to "demolish" and disassemble the structure of popular music, moving effortlessly from Rock to Blues, from Funk to Jazz, with a dash of acidic progressive psychedelia that ignites everything. Then recomposing their explosive sound mix and creating a generational crossover inspired by a triad of sensational artists (yes, with three z's because it gives more of the idea... PORK SODA!!): Uncle Frank from Baltimore, Captain Beefheart, and lastly, but not least, that Tom, wait, let's remember the last name, Waits.
The album, as usual, was conceived, composed, recorded in Les's home studio, that "Rancho Relaxo" where undoubtedly a special atmosphere reigns, an infinite relaxation that drives our musicians to always do their best. However, one must reckon with the bassist's two sons ("Los Bastardos," according to rumors…) who once again tried in every way to complicate matters, heavily disturbing the band, diverting them from the perfect search for their inconclusive instrumental plots.
Even times, odd times, twisted and strange times. Liquid bass, guitar that always seems to be from elsewhere. The sharp, cutting drums are the calling card of the returning Tim (praise always be to his proverbial rhythmic touch, counter-timed, that once again cements that lively, stimulating, and flourishing sound, which will never tire me).
I listened, like everyone else so far, only to the leading single: but it was enough for me, with those bass lines so precise, liquefied, incessant and an ending that unexpectedly veers towards Rush, but also towards the Crimson King. But they are always and only PRAIMUS, the number ONES forever and ever.
The recording sessions, as usual, were very swift because it is said that the three present do not appreciate water in its liquid form too much. They wash very little and it is deduced that they stink considerably, if not greatly; after all PRIMUS SUCKS (period and comma).
O tempora, o mores! Primus haec intellegit.
Having said this, I conclude with a consideration: anyone who has been hanging around Debaser for a long time should listen to the album at least once, indeed two, three, four, five, six...THE SEVEN...!!!
Ad maiora. Ad maiora.
De…Marga & Almotasim
Loading comments slowly
