Artist: Les Claypool
Album: Of Fungi And Foe
Year: 2009
Grade: 2.5 pretzels
When you sign up for a Les Claypool album, you know you’re gonna be getting something pretty crazed. The Primus frontman is definitely one of the most unique, warped minds in popular music these days. I mean, this is the man who wrote the South Park theme. Ever since starting Primus in the early 90s, Claypool’s aesthetic has been quite clear, usually featuring his cartoony sense of humor, nasal redneck voice and jaw-dropping electric bass virtuosity. Of Fungi And Foe doesn’t add much new to the equation, but it definitely reminds us just what a wacky guy Claypool tends to be.
Of Fungi And Foe is Claypool’s second solo album and it draws together a collection of songs that Claypool was inspired to write while doing soundtrack work for a couple of projects. One of those involved a video game where a meteor struck Earth, creating intelligent mushrooms. Based on that premise alone, it’s no wonder Claypool got involved. The man is virtually the poster child for fun with hallucinogens. The second project, a film about a killer boar defending a marijuana field in California, seems to have less of an influence on the album, but it reinforces the drug-fueled haze that seems to surround this album.
This pervasive drugginess is both the album’s biggest strength and weakness. On one hand, it makes the songs suitably off-the-wall, especially after Claypool’s twisted mind has had its way with the lyrics. The opening pair of mushroom-centric songs, “Mushroom Men” and “Amanitas”, definitely show how Claypool can take abstract images and work wonders with them. Over the course of those two songs, he makes mushrooms sound about as sinister and devious as Rasputin. At the same time, however, Claypool’s songs can also drag on forever, often without a particularly great idea anchoring the song in the first place. “What Would Sir George Martin Do” gets boring after less than a minute, so when it proceeds to sprawl out across six without end, you can’t help but wonder what convinced Claypool to include it on the album (hint: the answer is drugs).
The strangest element to the album (besides, y’know, all the killer mushrooms) is the lack of bass playing. In most people’s minds, Claypool and the electric bass are synonymous. With Primus, Claypool made a name for himself as one of the most talented bassists in history, combining a percussive funk style with flurries of notes and noises. However, on Of Fungi And Foe, Claypool’s bass playing is unsettlingly subtle. If you really listen, you can hear some of his usual madcap bass style lurking in the background, but Claypool has drowned his playing under a sea of studio effects and distortions. The album is also unusually spare for a Claypool-related album, meaning that big, flashy bass solos would stand out awkwardly. Those who listen to this album in hopes of hearing Claypool’s signature bass playing will be disappointed, but at least he had the sense to restrain himself on songs that didn’t need lots of bass.
Ultimately, Of Fungi And Foe is a frustrating listening experience. There are moments of undeniable inspiration and plenty of zany thrills. But those moments are outweighed by too many songs that drift on aimlessly, while Claypool and his mob of studio musicians jam away. A bit more substance would have been nice, helping balance the madness that is lurking only so far away whenever Claypool makes music.
Of Fungi And Foe is Claypool’s second solo album and it draws together a collection of songs that Claypool was inspired to write while doing soundtrack work for a couple of projects. One of those involved a video game where a meteor struck Earth, creating intelligent mushrooms. Based on that premise alone, it’s no wonder Claypool got involved. The man is virtually the poster child for fun with hallucinogens. The second project, a film about a killer boar defending a marijuana field in California, seems to have less of an influence on the album, but it reinforces the drug-fueled haze that seems to surround this album.
This pervasive drugginess is both the album’s biggest strength and weakness. On one hand, it makes the songs suitably off-the-wall, especially after Claypool’s twisted mind has had its way with the lyrics. The opening pair of mushroom-centric songs, “Mushroom Men” and “Amanitas”, definitely show how Claypool can take abstract images and work wonders with them. Over the course of those two songs, he makes mushrooms sound about as sinister and devious as Rasputin. At the same time, however, Claypool’s songs can also drag on forever, often without a particularly great idea anchoring the song in the first place. “What Would Sir George Martin Do” gets boring after less than a minute, so when it proceeds to sprawl out across six without end, you can’t help but wonder what convinced Claypool to include it on the album (hint: the answer is drugs).
The strangest element to the album (besides, y’know, all the killer mushrooms) is the lack of bass playing. In most people’s minds, Claypool and the electric bass are synonymous. With Primus, Claypool made a name for himself as one of the most talented bassists in history, combining a percussive funk style with flurries of notes and noises. However, on Of Fungi And Foe, Claypool’s bass playing is unsettlingly subtle. If you really listen, you can hear some of his usual madcap bass style lurking in the background, but Claypool has drowned his playing under a sea of studio effects and distortions. The album is also unusually spare for a Claypool-related album, meaning that big, flashy bass solos would stand out awkwardly. Those who listen to this album in hopes of hearing Claypool’s signature bass playing will be disappointed, but at least he had the sense to restrain himself on songs that didn’t need lots of bass.
Ultimately, Of Fungi And Foe is a frustrating listening experience. There are moments of undeniable inspiration and plenty of zany thrills. But those moments are outweighed by too many songs that drift on aimlessly, while Claypool and his mob of studio musicians jam away. A bit more substance would have been nice, helping balance the madness that is lurking only so far away whenever Claypool makes music.
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