Les Claypool remembers being 14 years old and in algebra class. Behind him was another guy, a friend who often had guitar magazines. Claypool’s compatriot would thumb through the pages and show him pictures. That same classmate used to sell Claypool weed, too, as a matter of fact. For Claypool, who was first exposed to music by his mother’s records (including Abbey Road) and the AM radio, the rock rags were an early source of contemporary music exposure. “Claypool, check it out,” his friend would say. “This is the guitar I’m going to get, man!”
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The guy also wanted Claypool to sing in his band since he was known to hum Led Zeppelin and other rock tunes under his breath. But Claypool didn’t join the guy’s band. Instead, he found another band that needed a bass player, not a singer. It wasn’t the last time Claypool would miss out on being in a project that included his classmate—Kirk Hammett. Later, Claypool would try out for Metallica, but it wasn’t a musical fit. Nevertheless, Claypool has enjoyed an acclaimed career in the art form. It’s one that’s celebrated in a new box set of solo music, Adverse Yaw: The Prawn Song Years Box Set, out February 9.
“I was always surrounded by these guys wanting to wiggle their fingers faster than anybody else,” the 60-year-old, California-born Claypool tells American Songwriter. “But once I got my bass, I just decided what I wanted to do for my vocation.”
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Claypool, who is today considered to be one of the best bass players, picked the instrument because, well, he thought the guitar just sounded “wimpy.” In high school, he’d see random bands at his school dances. The six-string instruments just never sounded right to him. Instead, he liked the “fat” and “sultry” sounds of the four-string low-end bass. At the time, he says, “Everybody wanted to be Eddie Van Halen,” so Claypool knew that if he played bass, he would always have a job. For Claypool, music is like a conversation. Sometimes a person can speak in perfect sentences. Other times, it’s choppy. A wrong idea (or note) can often lead to an interesting topic, just as a perfect or correct one can. “I think it’s all about falling gracefully,” he says.
Listening to the whirling dervish play, one might wonder how Claypool developed his sound. He’s different. Off-kilter but beautiful. The type of musician who could learn Mozart or play gutter-punk songs, knowing each like the back of his hand. “The one thing you can say about Primus and all the music that I’ve done,” Claypool says, “is that there’s a strong element of nonconformity.” While he admits that sometimes being a nonconformist may have “hindered” some of the potential commercial appeal he and Primus could have received, in the end, to walk his own path is the ultimate reward. “That’s who we are and what I’ve always done,” he says.
It’s also what he’s encouraged his children to do. At the moment, Claypool’s son is working on a new documentary about the band and, Claypool says, the kid is looking for his “thesis statement.” And in a general sense, Claypool says, for him, it comes down to the fact that Primus always blazed its own trail. Cut its own pathways. “Opening new doors,” he says. “Wanting to move in directions that other people possibly have been through before.” That’s what he’s most proud about when it comes to the band (and his own music career at large). At times throughout his life when he was asked when Primus would stop, Claypool always said that it would when it wasn’t fun anymore.
And while Primus is back working together, there was a time when the group went on hiatus. In between Primus stints, Claypool started his own solo projects, including his Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, with which he is currently on tour (with a show in Nashville on Halloween). Whereas some musical geniuses work for Disney or collaborate with symphonies, Claypool goes out on the road with the Frogs. “I’ve met a lot of people who are very financially successful,” he says. “Not all of them are happy. The happiest people I know are the people who wake up every morning and get to do what they enjoy as their vocation, whether making $500 or $500,000. So, I’ve always impressed that on my kids, to follow what they enjoy.”
If Claypool knows one thing, it’s how to be himself. It’s what fans and listeners will hear on his new Box Set. The new collection is something Claypool is grateful to have in the world, even if he’s not the first person to want to examine the past. He is the type to keep his family photo albums safe but tucked away in a closet. In a way, it’s the same for his music. It can be very emotional to remember what happened years ago. The specter of regret or even of death looms over every examination. Yet, there are lots of good memories, too. And now, the solo music anyway, will all be in one place. “[Fans] can fall into the wormhole,” he says. “They don’t have to be digging for it.”
As for the future, Claypool, who watched the recent solar eclipse through a Cheerios box wrapped in tin foil from a tour bus with his bandmate and science nerd Sean Lennon (aka “Shiner”), says there is more music on the way. He’s working on a new record for The Claypool Lennon Delirium project. He’s also working on an album with bluegrass standout Billy Strings and there’s “Primus stuff on the horizon for next summer,” he adds. He’s also trying to get his IFR certification to become a pilot. Busy times for an accomplished, busy man. But no matter where he is, what he’s doing, or what tour van or classroom he’s sitting in, music is part of the experience.
“To me,” Claypool says, “music is like a smell that brings you to a place. Music is the soundtrack to your life. You can hear a note and it takes you back to a magical time.”
Photo by Jim Bennett/Getty Images
