Learning About Les ...
Eric Shapiro - NY Press 7/30/2010
This world is home to innumerable weirdos, but if you ask me they can be divided into two overarching categories. First, there are the self-consciously offbeat, pretentious assholes that compensate for their personal insecurity and/or a lack of something to say by acting as off-the-wall, batshit crazy as possible. You’ll find a lot of this type in Williamsburg. Then, there are the genuine oddballs that you can respect for being true to their deep-seated wackiness. Les Claypool fits snuggly into the latter category.
Claypool gets a bit defensive when you ask him about his weirdo reputation. It’s not that he’s self-conscious about it. It’s just that so many people have reduced his band’s deep, complex music to novelty kookiness. Les Claypool is a dude who is comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t feel the need to broadcast his eccentricities to the world. In fact, the guy I talked to on the phone, who has admitted (not in our conversation, but in the past) a fascination with human-animal hybrids and given his albums titles such as Sailing the Seas of Cheese and Pork Soda, came across as quite down-to-earth.
He lives in Arizona with his wife Chaney, his son Cage and his daughter Lena. Besides music, he has acquired an interest in wine. In fact, he has his own brand, Purple Pachyderm. I jokingly asked him if he would consider distributing free samples at concerts. “There isn’t enough of it and I don’t think the promoters would take kindly to free alcohol at their venues,” was his matter-of-fact reply.
While serious about his music, he seems to lack the typical rockstar ego, admitting freely that Primus’ modest commercial success is as much a product of circumstance as anything. When I asked him why weird (he prefers “unique”) music isn’t nearly as popular on the charts as it was in the 1990s, he attributed it to politics: “we’re in a very conservative time and one of the trademarks of conservatism is conformity.” It goes without saying that Primus doesn’t do conformity. And you’d better not expect the time to start conforming any time soon. Les’ musical philosophy values uniqueness and is therefore incompatible with the manufactured, assembly line pop that dominates the charts these days. He enjoys collaborating with musicians, such as Gogol Bordello (touring with Primus right now and whose members have contributed to Claypool’s solo material), who have that “special something that makes them unique, that sets them apart.” He probably couldn’t even “go mainstream” if he wanted to. For Les, songwriting is an organic process. “I sort of just shoot from the hip,” is how he put it. There is no conscious progression in his work, whether solo or with Primus.
Although Les’ music, at least with Primus, hasn’t changed drastically from album to album, his life most certainly has. “Touring was a lot different for a while. It was tough not seeing my kids for long periods of time. But now that they’re a bit older, they can come with me and it’s great.” His friendship with longtime bandmate, Primus guitarist Larry LaLand, has ebbed and flowed over the years, particularly during the band’s time apart. “For a while we weren’t quite as close, but we are now that we’re working together again.” Fans may have to wait until next year for a new Primus album, but they can see them live this summer; the band will be on the road until August 15, where they’re set to play with Wolfmother in Santa Barbara, CF.
But don’t fear New Yorkers; they’re playing tonight at the Williamsburg Waterfront. Gogol Bordello will be there too, so don’t miss it.
This world is home to innumerable weirdos, but if you ask me they can be divided into two overarching categories. First, there are the self-consciously offbeat, pretentious assholes that compensate for their personal insecurity and/or a lack of something to say by acting as off-the-wall, batshit crazy as possible. You’ll find a lot of this type in Williamsburg. Then, there are the genuine oddballs that you can respect for being true to their deep-seated wackiness. Les Claypool fits snuggly into the latter category.
Claypool gets a bit defensive when you ask him about his weirdo reputation. It’s not that he’s self-conscious about it. It’s just that so many people have reduced his band’s deep, complex music to novelty kookiness. Les Claypool is a dude who is comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t feel the need to broadcast his eccentricities to the world. In fact, the guy I talked to on the phone, who has admitted (not in our conversation, but in the past) a fascination with human-animal hybrids and given his albums titles such as Sailing the Seas of Cheese and Pork Soda, came across as quite down-to-earth.
He lives in Arizona with his wife Chaney, his son Cage and his daughter Lena. Besides music, he has acquired an interest in wine. In fact, he has his own brand, Purple Pachyderm. I jokingly asked him if he would consider distributing free samples at concerts. “There isn’t enough of it and I don’t think the promoters would take kindly to free alcohol at their venues,” was his matter-of-fact reply.
While serious about his music, he seems to lack the typical rockstar ego, admitting freely that Primus’ modest commercial success is as much a product of circumstance as anything. When I asked him why weird (he prefers “unique”) music isn’t nearly as popular on the charts as it was in the 1990s, he attributed it to politics: “we’re in a very conservative time and one of the trademarks of conservatism is conformity.” It goes without saying that Primus doesn’t do conformity. And you’d better not expect the time to start conforming any time soon. Les’ musical philosophy values uniqueness and is therefore incompatible with the manufactured, assembly line pop that dominates the charts these days. He enjoys collaborating with musicians, such as Gogol Bordello (touring with Primus right now and whose members have contributed to Claypool’s solo material), who have that “special something that makes them unique, that sets them apart.” He probably couldn’t even “go mainstream” if he wanted to. For Les, songwriting is an organic process. “I sort of just shoot from the hip,” is how he put it. There is no conscious progression in his work, whether solo or with Primus.
Although Les’ music, at least with Primus, hasn’t changed drastically from album to album, his life most certainly has. “Touring was a lot different for a while. It was tough not seeing my kids for long periods of time. But now that they’re a bit older, they can come with me and it’s great.” His friendship with longtime bandmate, Primus guitarist Larry LaLand, has ebbed and flowed over the years, particularly during the band’s time apart. “For a while we weren’t quite as close, but we are now that we’re working together again.” Fans may have to wait until next year for a new Primus album, but they can see them live this summer; the band will be on the road until August 15, where they’re set to play with Wolfmother in Santa Barbara, CF.
But don’t fear New Yorkers; they’re playing tonight at the Williamsburg Waterfront. Gogol Bordello will be there too, so don’t miss it.