But don’t think for a second that Claypool will be taking a break from his fearless rock and roll eccentricities to start crocheting doilies. A beautiful, bellowing chime that exemplifies his passion for life. “It was this little, old lady’s house, and it smelled like mothballs,” he laughs. But instead the Primus frontman dials in after staying the night at a bed and breakfast in the middle of New Jersey, noshing on a bowl of pistachios. A few days prior to the release of his band’s ninth album, you might expect the prolific Les Claypool to be locked away in some mysterious laboratory, cooking up some kooky ideas, thick, nebulous smoke bubbling beneath his feet.
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