The Claypool Lennon Delirium - South of Reality

Prolofic vocalist Sean Lennon and Primus’ bass guitar maestro, Les Claypool, first linked up in the studio under this moniker in 2015 to make use of some time off from their seperate projects to relax the way they saw most fit, which was to record some old-school, ‘70’s psychedelic prog rock. It wasn’t the most titillating project I heard of that incredible year (which saw releases from Gojira, Meshuggah, Metallica, Khemmis, Car Bomb, Nails, Bowie, Neurosis, Death Angel, Sumac, Vektor, Deftones, oh my god, that’s only a few, they picked the wrong year to release that thing), but 2016’s Monolith of Phobos was indeed a decent exposition of the pair’s abilities to channel that era of rock into a more modern pallet. It played the character well enough, but it still felt like a side project, one with a lot of assumed chemistry that still needed building up and with ideas not being as plentiful or freely flowing as the two might have thought they would be going into the project. There was definitely room for improvement, and on South of Reality, has indeed improved. While it is a more composed set of songs than its predecessor, it’s still a very intentionally wacky and eccentric album on most facets.

Lyrically the duo go for quirkier, light-mooded diction that maintains a margin of distance from seriousness about what they’re writing about, which is usually odd, obscure song topics like the supposed alien child claims of Boriska Kipriyanovich, the childhood of rocket engineer Jack Parsons, and a woman’s claims to having romantic and sexual encounters with ghosts. The main motifs running through most of the songs are indeed individual disconnect from reality on at least some aspect or the surrealism and absurtity of the reality we are in, as highlighted by the songs “Cricket Chronicles Revisited - Part I, Ask Your Doctor”, which parodies the vast array of prescription medication purposes and their odd, disclaimed side effects, and the lighthearted human-extinction-themed closer, “Like Fleas”. Sometimes the band’s pointing out of the ridiculousness of life itself and close comparison to the absurd brings up the kind of contemplations psychedelic rock was designed to bring up, but most of the time it seems like just an indulgence in the reveling of how weird things are both in reality and in fiction, which tires soon.

Nevertheless, the instrumental aspect of the album is one where the duo certainly made some progress from the last album. With all the stretched and warped synth and mellotron leads and reverb-y guitar parts providing the baseline psychedelia for the album, Claypool’s prominent and measured clanky bass lines keep the album grounded in rock to prevent it from floating out into space with all the keyboard and guitar psychedelics. Though not as funky as he usually is on the bass with Primus, Claypool still lays down a lot of tasty groove that honesty serves as the album’s lifeline from losing attention a lot of the time. One fine exception though comes with his funktastic energy on the song “Toady Man’s Hour”, which sounds indeed like it could work as a Primus song. I also particularly liked his moderated bass groove on the opening song, “Little Fishes”.

While it is again by no means a mind-blowing or even all too profound modern psychedelic rock record, it does show some improvement and a greater sense of investment and dedication from both members than what the originally tentatively one-off debut indicated. And I do think a little light jest about the madness of the world in its current tumult has valid purpose; Lennon and Claypool seem to know that in order to survive mentally in such an overbearing and taxing time, it takes some finding amusement at preposterousness of it all.

Blumpkin-based economy/10