The Claypool Lennon Delirium’s Wild Space Odyssey — Monolith of Phobos
Is it really that strange that Les Claypool and Sean Lennon recently teamed up to make an experimental rock record? Claypool has always been an oddball, even from his 1984 Primus beginnings, and more so in the 1990s grunge scene when Primus was at their peak. Meanwhile, as the son of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, it was only natural that Sean Lennon go into music. And so he has. Lennon has had the pleasure of experimenting with all kinds of music that interested him: film scores, solo alt-rock work, and psychedelic pop as part of the duo The Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger. So no, I can’t say that these two expansively creative gentlemen coming together to form a psych rock duo is too strange. In fact, Claypool’s inner goofball combined with Lennon’s smooth writing style provides a fresh breath of air into the current rock scene.
The Claypool Lennon Delirium fittingly sends the listener off into the deep darkness of space with their debut album, Monolith of Phobos, which references a large rock on Mars’ moon Phobos believed to have been created by meteor impact. The duo’s name most accurately reflects the opening of the album with the title track, “Monolith of Phobos.” Distorted guitar pick slides, whammy bars, and loads of tape echo and reverb set a delirious and schizophrenic tone for the rest of the album.
Shortly after, the duo then delves into darker social commentary with songs like “Mr. Wright” and “Oxycontin Girl.” The lyrics, in classic Claypool fashion, don’t try to win you over with any profundity. Instead, as an album with almost no expectations, Claypool delivers the goods the only way he knows how: in disturbing narratives and silly, psychedelic explorations. As so many of Claypool’s lyrics have done in the past, “Mr. Wright” and “Oxycontin Girl” both introduce us to abnormal characters. “Mr. Wright” is the tale of a man named Mr. Wright spying on a young lady. The tune starts with a bass-heavy groove that gets your head bobbing until Claypool’s lyrics hit. He tells us that Mr. Wright likes to watch the unnamed girl dance because “it puts a twitch into his pants.” He also watches her sleep, shower, and pee using cameras he has set up. Yet he calls him “that good, old, fine upstanding Mr. Wright.” It’s quite a disturbing story, but it’s not at all hard to bob one’s head to, despite the lyrics. What more could we expect from Claypool?
Elsewhere, on “Oxycontin Girl,” Claypool tells the story of “an Oxycontin girl in a heroin world.” He tells the listener of her struggles as a poor addict recently relocated to New York City and then questions why no one told her not to try drugs or move to New York. He worries, “Who’s gonna be the one to drop her at the ER?” In an interview with Rolling Stone, Claypool told the magazine that the song “Oxycontin Girl” is a reflection on the horrors of opioid abuse in the U.S. today. For the most part, however, there’s really no point to try to find deep meaning in his lyrics. And there are even times when you really couldn’t find much meaning in his lyrics. In “Boomerang Baby,” Claypool says disjointedly, “She’s never dated anyone before a thorough search of google/You wouldn’t catch her during church unless attending her own funeral.” But the two know their listeners are more concerned with their musical prowess, of which they show a great abundance.
On tracks like “Boomerang Baby,” it appears that Claypool’s 90s grunge past has influenced not only Lennon’s guitar playing on one track with simple, yet powerful chords, but the duo’s sound as a whole. The track is less experimental, but heavier than the rest of the others on the album. The bass pounds along with the drums for this one, letting Lennon jump into your consciousness with quick, intermittent solos and tasteful riffs and arpeggios. Lennon also adds tasteful and evocative synth parts to the sparse arrangement early in the track. The track may not be the wildest of the journeys the duo embarks on, but it may be for that reason that it is one of their catchiest and most cohesive pieces on the album.
As for the instrumental “There’s No Underwear in Space,” I’m a bit disappointed the group ended the album with such a mediocre musical number. The title suggests one of Claypool’s well-expected lyrical comedies, but Claypool’s voice never shows up, and the instrumental fails to convey such a intriguingly goofy message. Instead, it seems that the soundscape portrays a disastrous end to the 50 minute space odyssey the duo has taken the listener on. Although, the disaster could be that there is no underwear in space. But that seems like a reasonable assumption to make. Personally, I would just pack a pair or two.
Regardless, the Claypool Lennon Delirium most likely veered around any expectations that Primus or The Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger fans had prior to the album’s release. Claypool and Lennon bring the best of both of their worlds to the table with this record. Claypool offers up his silly lyrics and prominent bass parts, while Lennon adds smoothly psychedelic vocals and fuzzed-out guitar and synths. Monolith of Phobos serves as an impressive middle ground between the two artists that will likely invite first-time listeners to return and delve deeper into the two’s separate musical worlds.
Suggested Tracks: “Monolith of Phobos,” “Mr. Wright”
