Nell'oceano della musica rock, è possibile talvolta imbattersi in personaggi che hanno ben poco da spartire con la seriosità e la presunzione di molti artisti "seri", e uno di questi personaggi è il pirotecnico Les Claypool, bassista fantasioso ed eclettico con una personalità beffarda e un gusto tipicamente zappiano per la provocazione e il demenziale. Sia chiaro, non c'è nulla di particolarmente comico o rassicurante in quest'album, semmai accade il contrario, ma lo stile cartoonesco del gruppo riesce a schiudere all'ascoltatore nuove prospettive.

Prende così vita una serie di brani che sfruttano tutta una serie di ritmiche irregolari, dissonanze chitarristiche e rudi slap di basso per raccontare con tono da giullare storie di disperata solitudine ("Nature Boy"), dipingere scene di paranoia e suicidio (la blueseggiante "Bob", agghiacciante nel suo incedere catatonico) o semplicemente prendere in giro la figura del critico musicale presuntuoso e arrogante ("The Pressman", con tocchi di psichedelia indianeggiante e persino un accenno di Pink Floyd). Tra uno sketch e l'altro, la band inscena numeri strumentali curiosi e talvolta non del tutto riusciti (le pressoche inutili "Pork Chop's Little Ditty" 1 e 2) mentre riesce invece a costruire un episodio ipnotico e vagamente inquietante come "Wounded Knee", sorta di dub psichedelico per marimba e batteria. Brani come "Mr. Krinkle" appartengono al filone horror, e qui la serietà di fondo di tutti gli altri brani viene a galla in maniera più esplicita, sia nelle atmosfere plumbee che nel cantato teso/impaurito di Claypool. Completano il tutto la jam (decisamente noiosa) "Hamburger Train" e un altro strumentale di valore assolutamente nullo, "Hail Santa".

Quest'album segna il raggiungimento di una certa maturità nel sound della band (per quanto usare un termine simile parlando dei Primus possa suonare insensato e blasfemo), dove le liriche surreali e macabre si adattano alla perfezione a uno sfondo musicale sceneggiato con la massima cura e nel modo più spettacolare possibile. "Pork Soda" è una rock opera contemporanea, un ritratto ripugnante e maligno dei mali della società moderna, un pò come una versione meno apocalittica e più satirica di "Animals", con la maschera deformante di Les Claypool al posto della seriosità depressa e paranoica di Roger Waters. E dopo tutto questo, non dite che non avete riso neanche un po'.

Elenco tracce testi samples e video

01   Pork Chop’s Little Ditty (00:22)

02   My Name Is Mud (04:47)

My name is Mud
Not to be confused with Bill or Jack or Pete or Dennis
My name is mud and it's always been
'Cause I'm the most boring sons-a-bitch you've ever seen
I dress in blue-yes navy blue
From head to toe I'm rather drab except my patent shoes
I make 'em shine, well most the time
'Cept today my feet are troddin' on by this friend of mine
Six foot two and rude as hell
I got to get him in the ground before he starts to smell
My name is Mud

My name is Mud, but call me Aloysius Devadander Abercrombie
That's long for Mud so I've been told
Told that by this sonsabitch that lies before me bloated blue and cold
I've got my pride, I drink my wine
I'd drink only the finest 'cept I haven't earned a dime in several months
Or were it years
The breath on that fat bastard could bring any man to tears
We had our words, a common spat
So I kissed him upside the cranium with that aluminum baseball bat
My name is Mud

03   Welcome to This World (03:40)

Oh, welcome to this world of fools
Of pink champagne and swimming pools
Well, all you have to lose is your virginity
Perhaps we'll have some fun tonight
So stick around and take a bite of life
We don't need feebleness in this proximity

Ask good MacDuff and Donalbain,
So many good ideas are slain
By those who would dare not step out of line
But if I have my way tonight
And chances are I think I might-
I'll turn those sour minds to grapes of wine

Welcome to this world

Don't judge the boy by what you hear
The words are heard beyond the ear
The heart and mind are focus for this conversation
But be abound in mystery for that so much you do to me
For there are those who drown in adulation

Welcome to this world

If I had a dime for each time that I heard them preach
Well I'd have wicked thoughts upon my brain

04   Bob (04:39)

I had a friend that took a belt,
Took a belt and hung himself
Hung himself in the doorway
Of the apartment where he lived
His woman and his little bro
Came home from the grocery store
Only to find him dangling
In the apartment where he lived

I had a friend who shaved his head
Put his Doctor Martins on
And drew such wonderous pictures
In the apartment where he lived
He praised my creativity,
Though he spoke sarcastically
Oh, the conversations
In the apartment where he lived

I had a friend that took a belt,
Took a belt and hung himself
Hung himself in the doorway
Of the apartment where he lived
Rock, she thought him spiteful;
Ler, he thought him pitiful
Me, I've never been back to the apartment where he lived

05   DMV (04:58)

I've been to hell. I spell it...
I spell it DMV
Anyone that's been there
knows precisely what I mean
Stood there and I've waited
and choked back the urge to scream
And if I had my druthers
I'd screw a chimpanzee

call it pointless

When I need relief I spell it THC
Perhaps you may know vaguely what I mean
I sit back and smoke away
huge chunks of memory
As I slowly inflict upon
myself a full lobotomy

call it pointless

Barbecues, tea kettles, gobs of axle grease
There comes a time for every man
To sail the seas of cheese
Now, life's a bowl of bagel dogs,
but there are unpleasantries
Cold toilet seats, dentist chairs
and trips to DMV

call it pointless

I've been to hell. I spell it...
I spell it DMV
Anyone that's been there knows
precisely what I mean
I've stood in line and waited
near an hour and fifteen
And if I had my druthers
I'd screw that chimpanzee

call it pointless

06   The Ol’ Diamondback Sturgeon (Fisherman’s Chronicles, Part 3) (04:39)

07   Nature Boy (05:33)

I pull the blinds then I take my clothes off
Dance around the house like nature boy
My genitalia and pectoral muscles
aren't quite what I would like them to be

But you don't see me
No one can see me

I pull my blinds
Fill out my income tax form
Pen in hand I write so legibly
I have my kitty. His name is Allowishus,
I stroke him

But you don't see me
No one should see me

I pull the blinds
For the sun glares off my tele
and I find it quite so irritating
I have my videos - loads of Ren and Stimpy
Bottom - a bit of pornography

But you don't see me
No one should see me

Well, I've been known to tell a tale in two, and three, and four
And I've been persecuted sicne I sailed in through the door
And I've been known to sing a song in three, and four, and five
And I've been getting my ass chewed since the day I arrived here

But you don't see
No one should see me

08   Wounded Knee (02:25)

[Instrumental]

09   Pork Soda (02:20)

10   The Pressman (05:11)

By the light of the lamp I sit to type-
my notes on tab at my side
I don't see the sun much these days
A fluorescent tan covers my hide
How much impact shall I have this time?
My goal today is to reac the deadline
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I report the facts
Give them to me, please

Ham and egg sald on white bread
keeps me company on nights like this
A pack of metholated cigarettes
keeps my air nice and thick
When I write, words flow like coins from a candy box
Get out of my way
I've got something to say

The pulse is beating louder now
The cramps in my hands grow more intense with
Each tik, tik, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap on the keys
My social life is at an end so it seems to be
Why don't I trample on your lawn today?
I'll take skies of blue, turn over skies of grey
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I am the pressman
Acknowledge me

Mother always told me never stray too far from home
The little lady said,
"Boy, you'll never have to be alone, because,"
You build with fountain pen
You create the memory stain
You are the pressman
Stand up straight, boy

11   Mr. Krinkle (05:27)

12   The Air Is Getting Slippery (02:30)

It's incredibly hot in here today, incredibly hot in here
It's incredibly hot in here today, incredibly hot in here
The air is getting SLIPPERY and it's not to my surprise
My heart, it beats irregularly and the sweat it fills my eyes
I do not mind what I excrete 'cause
I'm here to make a buck
And those that cannot take the heat can take a flying...
Forgive me if I hesitate
It's incredibly hot in here today, incredibly hot in here
It's incredibly hot if I must say, incredibly hot in here

The dogs are barking merrily as Jerry sits on high
If you've studied your Floyd PROPERLY, you'd know that pigs could fly
Now if you want an encore you might hear is at luck
But me, I'd rather play Residents, 'cause I don't give a...
Forgive me if I hesitate
It's incredibly hot in here today, incredibly hot in here
It's incredibly hot if I must say, incredibly hot in here

Now, Fatty, he's a hell of a guy but he sweats like a dancing mule
He likes to hang out at Checker Gas with the Chets he knew from high school
He sold enough crystal meth to buy a stepside truck
But if you ask me twice I'd say the boy ain't worth a...
Forgive me if I hesitate
It's incredibly hot in here today, incredibly hot in here
It's incredibly hot in here today, incredibly hot in here

The act of perspiration is far beyond control
If the heat compels to aspirate please try not to miss the bowl
If sweatiness makes you horny, well darlin' I think you're in luck
'Cause all this clever banter gives me the urge to FUCK

13   Hamburger Train (08:11)

It's the guy from the Hamburger Train, mate!

14   Pork Chop’s Little Ditty (01:03)

15   Hail Santa (01:48)

[Instrumental]

Carico i commenti...  con calma

Altre recensioni

Di  Mr_Iko

 Il trattamento che ci riservano in questo disco è un toccasana per le nostre frustrazioni quotidiane.

 Vi consiglio di ascoltare questo disco rinchiusi nella completa solitudine di una camera di sicurezza con pareti imbottite per psicolabili.