Born in good ol' California, Claypool took up his fine instrument at a young age and within a couple years was involved with one of the most original bands to come along in the '90s, Primus. If none of this sounds familiar, listen to Limp Bizkit, Korn or the Presidents of the United States of America, imagine a band 10 times better than all of them combined, and you have Primus. However, for all its brilliance, Primus was Les' love-child and when he left, the band went on hiatus. Claypool, left with immense skill and no band, did what any normal musician would do: he joined up with Trey Anastasio (of Phish fame) and Stewart Copeland (The Police) and created the unholy trinity known henceforth as Oysterhead.
I went to see Claypool's latest band, the Flying Frog Brigade, made up of an eclectic mix of musicians. Let me set up the scene: the room was dark and a bit smoky when the players took the stage. I knew the band was kind of offbeat, but when the saxophonist came out dressed as the devil and the percussionist as an Indian raja, I got rid of all expectations. When Claypool took the stage, though, all was forgiven. He was dressed in his standard attire: black hat, sunglasses and a vest. The Brigade started in on "Shine on You Crazy Diamond" as Claypool continued to revel in his welcome from the crowd.
Displaying their usual affinity for Pink Floyd, Claypool and the band jammed on "Shine" for about 15 minutes before going onto more standard Brigade tunes like "David Malakaster," "Thela Hun Ginjeet" and "Highball with the Devil," to name a few. They played one long set, then followed with a solo performance by the saxophonist and guitarist as the others took a break.
Maybe Claypool's most noticeable characteristic (other than the fact that he is a god among mere mortals), it is that he is a showman. He likes to talk to his faithful subjects, sharing his mirth with ours. He even went as far as to scold a violent drunk in the front rows for pushing other people around (the infamous "kid with the white shirt"). He had us all sing along to "David Malakaster," an easy song even for drunk college and high school students to follow.
For the encore, Claypool brought out his B-game (B for bass) and unloaded the one-string bass on us. The way it works is that Claypool bows the string and pulls it to different tensions to get different notes. The sound both shocked and amazed the audience.
As the crowd filed out (Claypool did not do a second encore, much to my chagrin), I was a very happy little boy. My clothes still smell of cigarettes and my hearing is not as good as it was before Thursday, but seeing Claypool jump and dance around the stage made me feel more joyous than I have in weeks. I'm sure Les would have wanted no less.