Published on Mar 9, 1998
Geez… has it really been over a year since Primus last graced
the pages of “The Daily Vault”? Last time we looked at the
alternative trio who took the rulebook of rock and lit it on fire,
they helped us kick this website off when we looked at
Suck On This.
That album was 1989, though – let’s now jump ahead in time to
1995 and look at
Tales From The Punchbowl, an album which was criminally
overlooked by many people. Although it might have been seen as a
novelty album after the minor success of “Wynonna’s Big Brown
Beaver,” this album showed the true musical talents – as well as
looniness – of Les Claypool and crew.
If memory serves me right, this album featured the last recorded
appearance of Tim “Herb” Alexander, who parted ways with the group
soon afterwards. Damned shame –
Tales From The Punchbowl showed just how talented Alexander
was behind the drumkit, from snare rolls leading into cymbal action
to frantic double-bass work, Alexander’s talents were just coming
to the forefront. (I’m ashamed to admit I have yet to purchase or
listen to
The Brown Album, Primus’s last release.)
Claypool is one of the few musicians around who can use his bass
guitar in the same manner that a regular guitarist would whip out
leads; Claypool might just well be the most talented bass guitarist
alive right now. (I still admire the work of the late Cliff Burton
of Metallica, though.) Larry LaLonde’s guitar work is also at its
creative peak on this album.
Guess now is the best time to bring up the biggest complaint I
have with
Tales From The Punchbowl – why the hell are Claypool’s
vocals buried in the mix? On songs like “Professor Nutbutter’s
House Of Treats,” it’s damned near impossible to understand what
he’s saying most of the time. The only other complaint comes on the
second half of the album – unless you have the CD and are watching
the track numbers, it’s really hard to follow which song you’re
listening to. (I was unfortunate enough to buy the tape – while
we’re at it, couldn’t lyrics have been enclosed?)
Okay, enough griping. As long as this album is remembered for
“Wynonna’s Big Brown Beaver,” we might as well talk about it. It’s
a hell of a track to be remembered for – Claypool’s bass lines
often sound like a second lead guitar, while LaLonde simply goes
bananas with his solos. The video for this one is a stitch, by the
way – the band members are heavily made up to resemble the cowboy
brethren of that family in the Duracell commercials of a couple
years back. And if you took the time to read the bass drum head,
yes, there once was a band by that name – check the video to see
what I’m talking about.
The remainder of
Tales From The Punchbowl is simply incredible – though I
could have lived without the Doppler-effect car horns on “Hellbound
17 1/2 (Theme From),” as I was driving when this track came on, and
it scared the hell out of me. (I almost wrapped the Pierce Pinto
around a tree in fright.) “Southbound Pachyderm” is an incredibly
mature selection, including killer bass work from Claypool, who
almost gets into a Ted Nugent “Stranglehold” groove. “Year Of The
Parrot,” “Mrs. Blaileen” and “Glass Sandwich” also stand out.
But the problem is that many people don’t take Primus seriously,
nor are they willing to take a chance with one of their albums.
‘Tis a shame that these people don’t know what they’re missing.
Sure, Primus could well be the clown princes of alternative funk,
but
Tales From The Punchbowl is one of their most
listener-friendly works of their career. Each moment of weirdness
has its place, and it’s no longer weirdness for its own sake.
If you’ve ever given even a passing thought to getting an album
by Primus, then
Tales From The Punchbowl is the one you should pick up and
take a big swig from. Controlled lunacy never sounded so good.