Show Review

Primus rode their clacking bass train all the way from California to Washington D.C. during their epic Tour de Fromage (First tour in three years/ seven years with the original band members: Les Claypool – Bass / Larry LaLonde – Guitar – Tim Alexander - Drums). First sets ran randomly through Primus’s catalogue and every second set explored Sailing The Seas of Cheese album from top to bottom.

The concert began with a 13+ minute rip through the crowd-pleaser, “Southbound Pachyderm,” into two kick-drum heavyweights: “Mr. Knowitall” and “The Heckler.” Claypool’s high-lonesome howls shone during an almost equally long “My Friend Fats,” a song that received ample play this tour, before opening the carnival-esque “The Air is Getting Slippery.” Mid-way through, LaLonde’s fingers started skidding everywhere; he was hitting notes that would make the staunchest statues shake their dust. This escapade melded into a cocky southern-delta guitar shred.

A personal favorite, Mr. Krinkle, came next with Claypool stepping out from the darkness with his pig facemask on. His electric stand-up bass was already waiting for him, and he grabbed his bow and made the instrument growl - asking, “Hello Mr. Krinkle, how are you today?” Mr. Krinkle was just fine. Claypool and the crowd yelled “Hey! Hey!” in perfect time. “Mary the Ice Cube” was appropriate for this final night, with LaLonde’s guitar licks gashing the air as Claypool mournfully sang, “She’s gone/Doesn’t nothing ever last forever?” The two built from a creep to a frenzy, capped by Alexander’s tom-skipping skills. “My name is Mud” Claypool introduced and his fingers eventually finished the song laying the soppiest, mud filled bass slaps ever known.

Following an intermission highlighted by propaganda videos on the abuse of marijuana and LSD, the air flooded with the creeks of a ship on the high seas. The final performance of Sailing the Seas of Cheese was leaving port. After 44 performances of the album beginning in October of last year, Primus had it down to a science. Claypool was tight and when room was allowed, intensely expressive. LaLonde filled his old spot as crayon to Claypool’s pencil while veering outside the lines during a few inspired moments: “American Life” and “Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers.”

Drum-God Alexander was allowed an extensive slot during the second set of every show, right before “Eleven,” to show off his skills. After 15 minutes or more depending on the night, Claypool would then join in, pig facemask still on, with his whamolla (a one-string bass) in one hand and his bow in the other, for a drum and bass session. Alexander stretched from tribal beats to more progressive techno-influenced collages of rhythm. Claypool played a Hendrix derived section from the “Star Spangled Banner” as a crowd-teaser halfway through “Is it Luck?” “There you go,” said Claypool. He cranked back up to finish the last line of “Is it Luck” before the Washington D.C. ripping began.

A President Bush facemask donned stranger came out before “Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers” to chat a minute with the crowd, then played a tripped-out melodica. “My name is Georgie Peorgie and I am the leader of the free world. During the last four years…we’ve been taking a lot of LSD. You think things have been freaky? You’ve got no fucking idea what’s coming next,” He then offered a poem, “I’ve got so much fucking weed I don’t know what to do with it…Take this joint and blaze your whole fucking crew with it.”

The Bush bash continued through “Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers.” Claypool changed a line to read “Ashcroft’s drug patrol is out here hunting snipes,” which amped an already seething audience held under tight security scrutiny due to the historic, recently renovated venue.

“Fish On” began with a beautiful lead-in by Claypool. The song broke into a tumbling drum and bass duo with LeLonde laying a siren-tinged warning over the spectacle. “Los Bastardos” saw “Georgie Peorgie’s” return to the stage with a bass guitar in hand to help lay the groove backed by an evil looking skeleton-faced guitarist. Claypool, since the bass line was covered, was left to don a helmet with triggered lights on each side and a microphone. Two roto-toms were placed in the spot normally filled by his bass stand to which he began banging away in a fashion hedging on go-go drumming: definitely a sight to see. “Here they come,” Claypool would repeat in his best Hunter S. Thompson rant.

The playfully funky, yet rocking “Groundhog Day” popped out to lay claim to the final encore slot of the tour. Claypool sang the familiar lyrics, “Since I was in kneepants/ my pop had tried to make me realize/If I set my mind down to it/I could be a big man in the public eye.” Lets hope it’s not too long before Primus’s shadow looms large again.

Photo originally from primussucks.com.