Primus group shot. (Larry "Ler" Lalonde is on the left.)
PRIMUS have been called, on this blog, by me, "the greatest fucking band in the world."
They're on tour again. And this time, it's weird even by Primus
standards. The 3D Tour, described by bassist and frontman Les Claypool,
is "bringing back acid rock to the masses
Reviewing the live show of a band you're a big fan of can be a tricky proposition. On one hand it helps to be familiar with the material, but as a fan you're likely to fill in some of the performance holes with the caulk of fond memory. On the opposite end of the spectrum, reviewing a band you have no tolerance for can be tough as well.
It's Sunday night, and
the smell of marijuana is thick in the orchestra pit at the Orpheum. Fans in
pig masks shout "Fuck you Les!", "Fuck you Larry!", and "Primus fucking
sucks!". Les Claypool comes on stage, accompanied by his gentleman cohorts
Larry Lalonde on guitars and Jay
Lane on drums. He hits a flatulent note on his
Carl Thompson bass, and the world explodes.
I know there's a lot of other things in the news right now that people would rather talk about -- moon bombing, Obama's prize, CB Bucknor, Jim + Pam, etc. -- so I'll be brief in discussing last night's Grizzly Bear show.
The Grizz are in an interesting place right now. Sure, they're nominally a hip, "indie rock" band, but their sound is pretty far removed from the Pavements, Superchunks, and Neutral Milk Hotels of the world (to say nothing of Animal Collective or Deerhunter).
On night one of the sold-out WFNX "Miracle on Tremont Street," the OTD cams were lodged alongside the Sandbox dudes in what felt like the hottest, tinyest dressing room in Boston. Fletcher managed not to puke anybody, Special Ed spilled our Red Bull, and we met Rush's manager -- not to mention Geddy Lee's nephew. More on him and his band in a few, as well as a dispatch from the Airborne Toxic Event kids.