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Signore e Signori, benvenuti nella follia più completa!
Questi sono i Primus e questo è il loro primo album "Frizzle fry" (1990).
Les Claypool al basso insegue l'impossibile, lo raggiunge e lo svernicia come la Ducati di Stoner con la Yamaha di Rossi sul rettilineo della pista cinese, la sua voce è sgraziata, irriverente, stonata, o lo odi o lo ami, non c'è un cazzo da fare e io, malgrado ami le voci potenti, calde e intonate come Chris Cornell. Robert Plant, Ian Gillan, Eddie Vedder... Non riesco a non amarlo.... Mi fa morir dal ridere e mi stupisce ogni volta al tempo stesso.. La sua voce ci sta, ci sta sempre, è il completamento necessario alla musica dei Primus, non ce ne potrebbe essere altra... Tutte le volte che sento Les cantare e suonare (suonare è un po' riduttivo nel suo caso) il basso, l'immagine che mi si materializza è quella di braccio di ferro che si cala una scatola di spinaci e sodomizza il basso al suo volere con le dita che schizzano impazzite sul manico e sulle corde, ma la voce rimane uguale...
Spero di aver reso l'idea...
La chitarra di Larry LaLonde è efficace e tremendamente geniale nel seguire i riff che il buon Les detta, tace quando deve, tanto batteria e basso coprono tutto degnamente anche senza di lei, per stupire con assoli da brivido freddo lungo la schiena, a volte accenna solo mugolii in sottofondo, a volte esplode...
Tim Alexander non è un uomo, è una drum machine, con i suoi raddoppi impazziti, stop & go, lavori impressionanti su qualsiasi parte tocchi, leggero jazz al punto giusto dove questi funamboli hanno attimi di tregua, accelerazioni prog devastanti, funky, potenza metal quando pesta, tecnica portata all'estremo.. Uno dei migliori batteristi che abbia mai sentito, a volte stento a credere a quello che sentono le mie orecchie...
Come definire i Primus? Come inquadrarli? Che musica fanno? La risposta che mi viene in mente è: funky-progressive-hardcore-punk-rock-metal-jazz-freeacidpsichedelicjazz ecc... la seconda risposta, che, tra l'altro, mi sembra la più plausibile è: ma che cazzo ne so? Questi suonano di stramaledettissima maniera e hanno due balle che gli toccano il mento! Cazzo me ne incula che genere fanno?
L'unico accostamento che ritengo possibile alla sregolatezza e alla depravazione sonora dei Primus sono i Mr. Bungle di un altro folle qual è Mike Patton, infatti solo tra deviati ci si può intendere.
Menzione speciale per la copertina, veramenete una delle più belle e geniali mai viste..
L'album in questione è un concentrato di schegge impazzite, cambi di tempo da togliere il fiato, invenzioni leonardesche in musica, la sezione ritmica farebbe impallidire chiunque già solo al primo pezzo "To Defy The Laws Of Tradition" (con omaggio iniziale ai Rush), sei minuti e quaranta (!) di pure lezioni tecniche basso chitarra e, soprattutto, batteria, raddoppiata all'inverosimile, rullate velocissime, stacchi violenti, partiture jazz, il delirio più completo accompagnano Les che fa quello che vuole. La chitarra ora lo segue, ora si discosta, poi, dopo un fantastico intermezzo basso e percussioni, parte in un assolo splendido. La voce è irriverente al massimo, sbeffeggiante, a volte sembra che sia tutto uno scherzo e che Les canti appositamente così, ma, in gran segreto sia dotato di una buona voce.. Non è vero... Le canzoni, prendete quella successiva "Too many puppies", sono veri e propri rompicapo che si possono decifrare in miliardi di modi (l'inizio ricorda "Blind" dei Korn...), non si riesce a descriverle pienamente con poche parole, dovete solo ascoltarle più e più volte per rendervene conto. Ascoltate "Frizzle fry" per capire con chi avete a che fare, la pesantezza del riff di basso e batteria, il genio del chitarrista, i mille cambi di tempo, l'accelerazione prog mostruosa nel finale, la tecnica in persona si inchina a questi tre. Oppure "John the fisherman" con i suoi tempi e controtempi, "Pudding time", "Harold of the rocks"...
Ogni pezzo è degno di lode.
Dedicato a chi pensava che Flea fosse il miglior bassista in circolazione e i Red Hot il miglior gruppo funky del pianeta..
Elenco tracce testi e samples
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.
Carico i commenti... con calma
