For those of us who remember the dawn of Primus—the freakishly askew funk/rock/experimental power trio that first brought rubber-limbed bass virtuoso les claypool into the public eye—nothing seemed quite so unlikely as the prosepect of this loopy little band and its delightfully demented svengali becoming fixtures in pop culture. Decidedly odd fixtures, no doubt, occupying a singularly strange niche. But fixtures, no less.
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