Hallelujah! Les Has A New Album!

By Beth Winegarner

According to Grolier's Encyclopedia, "The holy is usually in opposition to the everyday and profane and carries with it a sense of supreme value and ultimate reality. The holy may be understood as a personal GOD, as a whole realm of gods and spirits, as a diffuse power, as an impersonal order, or in some other way."

For Les Claypool, vocalist and bassist par excellence, one might think music is the holiest of holies. But the man who is best known for his work with Primus, as well as his unrestrained attraction to unique sounds and styles, may well have picked up his first fishing pole before he ever laid hands on a guitar. So while Primus is busy sorting out their "musical differences," Claypool has gotten up to his hipboots in a solo effort called, appropriately enough, Holy Mackerel.

The Mackerel's album, titled Highball with the Devil, is a delightful example of what happens when Claypool lets his imagination run amok in the fields of noise. Entirely written by the Primus frontman, it features an eclectic mix of genre-bending songs and mouthwatering artists from all over the musical map.

Highball opens with the sauntering "Running the Gauntlet," its vocal harmonies reminiscent of the Residents while Claypool's bass dips and dives. The band's title track follows, a dark, quick-paced ditty about the angst of adolescence with off-kilter lyrics: "Once when I was young I troubled over imperfection in my knees/When you cultivate a pompadour it's best to keep the top up for the breeze."

Though Claypool takes center stage here, guitarist Mark "Mirv" Haggard, of the band M.I.R.V., brings a load of goodies to the party. In "Hendershot" Haggard weaves in healthy amounts of gloomy surf guitar, while on "Rancor" his six-string sounds as if it's being pulled backwards through a sieve. "Cohibas Esplenditos," a song Claypool claims is about two friends of his who like to smoke Cuban cigars, features a wailing solo on electric handsaw, which comes alive under Haggard's considerable talent. Drummer Jay Lane (from Sausage) rounds out the central trio of the Holy Mackerel, adding rhythms and pizzazz to everything he touches.

Claypool is a masterful storyteller, and his work with Holy Mackerel is no exception. In "Highball with the Devil," the protagonists make off with Satan's power after a night of heavy drinking. "Granny's Little Yard Gnome," an adorable enough idea all on its own, is told from the perspective of a gnome who wishes he could be elsewhere: "Now Granny, she's a good one, she shines me now and then/And come around this springtime I'm due for paint again... I'm just wishing I had some eyelids so I could get some sleep." Claypool even tells his own life story in third-person fashion in "El Sobrante Fortnight," an elaborate and funny ditty related in Claypool's most conversational voice.

The album includes two instrumentals, the jazzy jam of "Me and Chuck," which features Charlie Hunter on guitar, and an obscure piece written by Dexter Redding -- son of Otis -- called "The Awakening." Other guests include Henry Rollins, who takes the microphone in "Delicate Tendrils," an ominous spoken-word piece which warns against the dangers of envy and of getting what you think you want most. Behind the soliloquy Claypool's bass, along with drums played by Jay Lane of Sausage, crash and grind. The bass is muddy and thick on "Carolina Rig," featuring a southern-twang lecture on freight trucks contributed by an unknown speaker.

Although making a solo album was a major step for Claypool, who said the idea had "always given [him] the chills," fans of the leg-stomping bassist will be pleased with the work created during his sessions with Holy Mackerel. The music is perhaps a bit odder, less linear, and -- yes, it's possible -- more playful than anything Primus has ever done. But in both instances, Claypool's bass and throughtforms dominate, creating a delectable feast of Mackerel Stew sure to quiet the tummies of those hungry for new material from the backwater bassist.

In "El Sobrante Fortnight," Claypool relates, "The world was his oyster and he planned to shuck it, cover it with Tabasco sauce and slurp it down." This man doesn't take life -- or music -- lightly. Hallelujah.

This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.