•
Rating: The few people who know me well on Debaser are aware of my insane musical passion (and not only) for Les Claypool; an absolute love that began in 1991 when I was introduced, through "Sailing the Seas of Cheese," to the doctrine of Primus. With every record release from the Californian bassist, as well as a brilliant fisherman, I am hit by an unparalleled hormonal upheaval; I go into ecstasy and my brain, so to speak, turns to mush.
With this introduction, it seems easy to deduce that I will never, ever be objective when it comes to recounting a new musical project of my little big hero; Les could even compose a modulated fart with his jaunty bass for the duration of an entire album: it would become the album of the year. No ifs, no buts, no doubt whatsoever.
At the end of 2015, I became aware of this crazy and hybrid project involving the genius minds of Les and Sean Lennon; there's no need to spend more words on their respective careers. Pages upon pages can be consulted in a nanosecond online.
It was months of feverish anticipation until yesterday morning when finally my personal music supplier in Domodossola managed to find the CD. Unfortunately, I couldn't get the vinyl, which would have proudly stood in my collection of 33 rpm records. As usual, the artwork is "cardboard" with an image that smells of space, of an endless journey in the skies above us; recorded and mixed in the quiet of Rancho Relaxo, Les's personal studio. I imagine the tranquil composing sessions where the two bold musicians, with serene calm and no rush at all, crafted an extremely varied and meticulously musically refined album. For me, it was easy to assimilate; it only took a couple of listens to have a precise idea of the whole.
A work free from constraints, very free indeed; that obviously has the taste of Primus with that imposing and liquid bass that abounds in every single song. Sean's seventies impression and associated substantial psychedelia are brought to the forefront; after all, with this album, I'm not discovering Les's love for Pink Floyd and the progressive music of those glorious years.
It begins with the cosmic journey of "The Monolith Of Phobos," moving through the parts of the single "Mr. Wright," where it is the rhythmic and occasionally skewed pulse of His Holiness Les's bass that gives movement to the song. With the piercing sound of Sean's guitar that corroborates and intensifies the song's oblique flow.
The narcoleptic and long auditory trip of "Boomerang Baby," the children's lullaby that should make them fall asleep, "Captain Lariat," with its rootsy and festive flavor that feels very much like a village fair. Les and Sean take turns singing and continue with "Oxycontin Girl," which makes me experience more than an immense thrill because that initial bass riff closely resembles "Here Comes The Bastards" by Primus: in a sunnier and more rustic version.
We are at the end, and they bid us farewell in the best possible way: "There's No Underwear In Space" is a mantric instrumental still with a seventies feel that confidently heads towards Space-Rock. And here, in the song credits, is the final stroke of genius; despite being a non-sung song, it reads: Lennon lead vocals and Claypool vocals. To convey the prankish spirit and definite fun that guided the delirious duo in composing the album.
Album of 2016; now I can already step outside in this cool morning. Because outside there's a village fête, and I'm going for a stroll. Shouting, "The Claypool Lennon Delirium SUCKS!!"
Ad Maiora.
Loading comments slowly
