San Francisco's Bottom of the Hill is a tiny shoebox of a club, darkly lit and garishly designed, with a well-stocked bar and an eatery which serves up generous portions of food. Although Primus are world-famous musicians by now, frontman Les Claypool (and whatever band he's working with) makes a habit of playing warm-up gigs in tiny places around the San Francisco Bay Area. Wednesday's show premiering Claypool's new band, the Holy Mackerel, is like the club's Cajun fries: rich, spicy, peculiar and more than a person can wolf down in one sitting.

Openers included the Aquamen, whose odes to alcohol were a bit wearying, and Stark Raving Brad, a progressive-ska band with perceptive musicianship. By 11:30 the club was packed with hot bodies filling the air with sweat, smoke and tension. Members of Holy Mackerel filed onstage to Gregorian chanting, each one wearing a variety of religious robe. Rhythm guitarist Adam Gates gave a brief speech about the "sacred fishy," the Holy Mackerel, and then Claypool came to the stage as the audience cheered.

The band introduced themselves with their signature song, a bouncy, Frizzle Fry-esque ode to the awkwardness of adolescence. Then Claypool relinquished his electric bass for a slender stand-up model to play the moaning melody of "Precipitation," accompanied by Mark "Mirv" Haggard's plinking guitars and mantra of "rain rain rain." Holy Mackerel followed this with "Hendershot," a psychedelic tune with surf guitar and a loose rhythm, which details the life story of a boy cursed with an unusual name.

Claypool's storytelling abilities are front and center with this new project; he spins tales on everything from "George E. Porge" ("George E. Porge, he'd kissed the girls/And felt he'd rather kiss the boys/And speculates that now is not the time") to "Granny's Little Garden Gnome" ("But if I had my druthers/I'd druther be a fence"). The music, a bit jazzier and weirder (and often more reminiscent of the Residents) than his work with Primus or Sausage, was entirely written by the bassist. Though this was the band's first performance in front of an audience, their set was tight, playful and easygoing.

Les' puckish sense of humor was also in full swing Wednesday night as he slipped in lines like, "I'm Guerne Blanson and I'm glad to be here." During "Rancor," a song like a freight truck going 100 mph with its driver -- on speed -- shouting for help on the CB, a woman from the audience approached the stage to ask Claypool a question. "The young lady wants to know if I think I'm good enough," he translated. Again she whispered in his ear and he explained, "This is getting very philosophical. She says she knows I'm good enough. She wants to know why." He explained that he couldn't talk with her just then, as he was playing a concert and had a responsibility to his "bosses," the folks in the crowd. The band concluded "Rancor" with a crash landing and Les quipped, "alternative music, folks. Alternative music."

The musicians who make up Holy Mackerel are a talented bunch who take well to Claypool's schizophrenic arrangements. Haggard (or "Mirv Griffinstein," as Claypool continued to call him throughout the night) is a varied player whose style ranges from jazz to funk with relative ease. His splintering solo on hands during "Cohibas Esplenditos," however, took the cake. Drummer Brain's rhythms are deft and driving, notably on "Rancor" and "Holy Mackerel." Gates' rhythm playing showed eclectic flavors when Haggard's work veered off into la-la land.

Primus fans should rest assured that the band has not gone their separate ways despite Tim Alexander's departure. "Primus is alive and well and selling insurance in the East Bay," Claypool joked Wednesday night. In the meantime, there's the Holy Mackerel, who will play in Petaluma, CA on August 23 and again in San Francisco on August 24. This band is pure Les, and a sheer funkin' good time.

This article was originally published in the San Francisco Chronicle.