vinylfanatics.com

**Sailing The Seas Of Cheese - Primus ★★★★☆**

In the grand pantheon of rock music's most gloriously unhinged moments, few albums have managed to be simultaneously as accessible and as utterly deranged as Primus's 1991 masterpiece "Sailing The Seas Of Cheese." Like a fever dream broadcast from some alternate dimension where Captain Beefheart fronted Rush while subsisting entirely on hallucinogens and cartoon reruns, this record stands as testament to what happens when genuine musical virtuosity collides headlong with an absolutely uncompromising vision of weirdness.

The origins of this peculiar beast trace back to the San Francisco Bay Area's thriving alternative scene of the late eighties, where bassist Les Claypool had been crafting his singular brand of funk-metal fusion with various lineups. Following the departure of guitarist Todd Huth after their 1990 debut "Frizzle Fry," Claypool recruited Larry "Ler" LaLonde, a former member of thrash outfit Possessed, whose angular, effects-laden approach proved the perfect foil to Claypool's rubber-band bass acrobatics. With drummer Tim "Herb" Alexander's polyrhythmic wizardry completing the triumvirate, Primus had assembled their definitive lineup just as major labels came sniffing around the underground.

What emerged was an album that defied every conceivable categorisation. Part funk, part metal, part prog-rock circus act, "Sailing The Seas Of Cheese" operates in a genre entirely of its own making. Claypool's bass doesn't merely anchor these songs – it dominates them, slapping and popping with the percussive intensity of a machine gun loaded with rubber bullets. His vocals, delivered in a nasal drawl that suggests Tom Waits gargling with helium, spin tales of suburban alienation and surreal Americana that feel like dispatches from David Lynch's notebook.

The album's calling card, "Jerry Was A Race Car Driver," remains one of the most distinctive singles in rock history. Built around a bass line that sounds like it's actively trying to escape the song's gravitational pull, it's a three-minute blast of controlled chaos that somehow became an MTV staple. The fact that a song this aggressively strange achieved mainstream success speaks to both the adventurous spirit of early nineties radio and Claypool's uncanny ability to smuggle avant-garde sensibilities inside irresistible grooves.

Equally essential is "Tommy The Cat," a seven-minute epic that showcases the band's prog credentials while maintaining their commitment to the absurd. Claypool's bass tells the story as much as his vocals, creating a musical narrative that's part beatnik poetry, part animal documentary. Meanwhile, "Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers" serves up a slice of working-class commentary wrapped in the kind of rhythmic complexity that would make King Crimson weep with envy.

The album's secret weapon might be "My Name Is Mud," a sludgy, hypnotic groove that demonstrates Primus's ability to dial down the virtuosic flash without sacrificing an ounce of their essential strangeness. It's perhaps their most accessible moment, which is saying something for a band whose idea of accessibility involves songs about anthropomorphic cats and methamphetamine-addled labourers.

Producer Matt Winegar deserves credit for capturing the band's live energy while allowing space for their instrumental intricacies to breathe. The production strikes that crucial balance between clarity and grit, ensuring that every slap, pop, and angular guitar squeal cuts through the mix with surgical precision.

Three decades on, "Sailing The Seas Of Cheese" has aged remarkably well, its influence rippling through generations of musicians willing to prioritise creativity over convention. The album's commercial success – it peaked at number 116 on the Billboard 200 and eventually went gold – proved that audiences were hungry for something genuinely different. In an era increasingly dominated by focus-grouped mediocrity, Primus offered a reminder that the most memorable music often emerges from the furthest reaches of the artistic spectrum.

The record's legacy extends beyond its immediate impact, inspiring countless bass players to view their instrument as something more than a rhythmic foundation. Claypool's approach – melodic, percussive, and utterly central to the band's sound – helped redefine what bass could accomplish in a rock context.

"Sailing The Seas Of Cheese" remains a