Live Review: Primus

The rare prospect of two fully-fledged sets comprising An Evening With Primus not only unsurprisingly ensured this show sold out almost instantly, but that the gathering emanated the type of giddiness akin to a teenage boy discovering online porn for the first time. Thus, when the veteran trio began a combined two-and-a-half hours, plus intermission, of jazz-fuelled improvisation and funky, proggy hard rock there would simply have been no alternative place for their dedicated following to be.

Being recently re-joined by long-time drummer Tim 'Herb' Alexander meant the chemistry which gradually endeared the Americans' oft-acquired taste to wider audiences was further enhanced. Axeman Larry LaLonde's tasty fusion flourishes proved the ideal foil for Les Claypool's slap-happy playing. The incomparable main man exuded a dexterity more often witnessed in lead guitarists; flamenco strumming and fluent finger-tapping wowing bass aficionados and non-musicians alike. Cleverly, the aforementioned virtuosic ability was offset by a likeable, quirky sense of humour.

Ambient lighting further established the scene for a display covering almost all bases of their extensive career. The opening 80 minutes was lighter on obvious fan favourites (self-loathing anthem My Name Is Mud, Southbound Pachyderm). Set one highlights also included inviting a punter onstage to play drums, leading Claypool to sarcastically quip, “See, dreams do come true”. The second stanza was more generous to casual fans (although this reviewer would suggest there weren't many of those present), delighting the pogoing pit via Too Many Puppies, The Heckler and mass sing-along Jerry Was A Race Car Driver. Bob, a taste of Snoop Dogg's Gin And Juice and Harold Of The Rocks encore further fleshed out a diehard-satisfying set.

Minor grumbles regarding the absence of a few 'hits', some of which were aired during their festival set the previous day aside – they're Primus, and they don't suck.