Primus
Green Naugahyde

It's been a loooong time since Primus put out a proper album - 12 fucking years, to be precise, if you're not counting the throwaway EP they put out in the early aughts. In that period, they've toured several times - just long enough to keep people interested - and morphed from funk-punk-prog pioneers into a kind of jam-band for metalheads, managing to make long shows out of 8-song sets. Not that anyone minds - I saw them at Roseland a couple of years ago, and the crowd was so excited they demolished the barricade in front of the stage, something I haven't seen at Roseland ever, despite having seen bands like Slayer and Pantera there. But the question remained in every Primus fan's head: When they do come back, what the fuck are they going to sound like?

I suppose calling myself "ambivalent" about their new release, Green Naugahyde, isn't going to put me in the Music Critic Hall of Fame. But that's how I feel, nevertheless. I so badly want to give this album a good review, it hurts. Because I love Primus, and have since I first heard them in 1991. But I'm a music critic, and I'm an objectivist, so, here goes: The new Primus album is a decent, but not very good, slice of musical pie.

Songs like "Hennepin Crawler" and "Last Salmon Man" sound like Primus songs - that is, they're rhythm-section-driven funk jams with a lot of Zappa-esque guitar in the background - but there's two fundamental things missing here: the thrash and the danger. The thrash sound was a significant element in their early records. You could pogo to this music, or, just as happily, you could beat someone the fuck up to it. No matter how calm the song started, it was only a matter of time before frontman/bassist Les Claypool got around to pounding the shit out of his instrument.

Then there's the danger. No matter how light-hearted Primus songs may sound, they look pretty violent on paper. Someone almost always dies at the end of a Primus song, whether it's "John The Fisherman," swallowed by the ocean, or "Bob," who "hung himself in the doorway of the apartment where he lived," or "Jerry" the race car driver, who died a fiery drunk-driving death. The new songs on Naugahyde lack that element of shit grim-and-gory that made Primus such a bullet in the teeth in the first place. (The only track that maintains a glimmer of this attitude on Naugahyde is "Jilly's On Smack," a dark-ish number whose timbre is constantly belied by Claypool's histronic vocals.)

I think the problem - aside from the band making way for new drummer Jay Lane, the third of their career - can (I hope) be chalked up to the fact that the group hasn't recorded together in at least a decade. They've played old songs in that time, sure, but they haven't functioned as a songwriting unit in quite a while. Here's to hoping they don't wait another 10 years to find their common groove.

Red Hot Chili Peppers
I'm With You

At this point, being disappointed in the Chili Peppers is a little like being a Mets fan - it goes with the territory. The quality of their recorded output has been on a steady decline since career highpoint Blood Sugar Sex Magik, and that was 20 years ago. When I found out that secret weapon guitarist John Frusciante was leaving, and being replaced by relative newcomer Josh Klinghoffer (more on him later), I hoped for a new beginning. Or at least, something better than their last album, the sprawling (and boring) Stadium Arcadium.

I'm With You is that new beginning, but it's also a bit of a letdown. Don't get me wrong, it starts strong: "Monarchy Of Roses" is the hardest, most energetic song the Peppers have recorded in over a decade. Combining pounding drums, distorted vocals, and rapid-fire bass, this is 21st century Chili Peppers at its finest. Follow-up "Factory Of Faith" is a decently funky number too - no complaints here.

Then: thud. "Brendan's Death Song" is the latest in a long line of ballads from the former funk-punk icons, and as usual, frontman Anthony Kiedis' attempts to sound serious are about as solemn as a priest playing pick-up-sticks with his buttcheeks. In fact (as usual), Kiedis remains the weakest link in the band, laying down borderline retarded raps over otherwise semi-decent songs all over the album.

The second weakest link? Josh Klinghoffer, the new guitarist. My God, is this guy boring. I would describe his instrumental style, if only he had one. Most of the time, he remains content to follow the rhythm section around like a lost puppy. Which leaves it up to bassist Michael Balzary (I refuse to call a man in his 40s "Flea," no matter how he colors his hair) and drummer Chad Smith to carry the show.

They do, but barely. At this point, even the talented members of this band are running out of steam. There are a few good songs towards the end of the album ("Even You Brutus," in particular, makes excellent use of the piano), but it's a too-little-too-late scenario all around. I'll always be a Chili Peppers fan - I've followed them this far, might as well see this shit out to the end - but I'll always be a little disappointed, too.

Various Artists
Muppets: The Green Album

Look, you don't fuck with the Muppets, okay? They're a veritable institution for people of my generation. Smarter than Sesame Street and with better production values than The Electric Company, the Muppets have been revered since their invention in the late 70s as the touchstone for fun, educational puppeteering. I don't care if you can see the sticks and wires; that shit was fun. You don't fucking front on the Muppets.

So if you're going to release a high profile tribute album featuring some of today's hottest acts, you pick and choose those acts with a discriminating air. Or, maybe not. Whoever put out this farce of a collection (Disneymusic, I'm looking at you) needs to be pinned to a wall.

I mean, check out these artists: The Fray? Alkaline Trio? Some douchebag from Atreyu? What is this, K-Tel Presents Emo Hits! Sounds Of The 00's? You know when the best band here is My Morning Jacket, something foul is afoot. Maybe the budget was bad, maybe the selector has his head up his ass, I don't know. What I do know is, this album is mostly a travesty - a spit in Kermit's bulging half-moon eye.

Given that the majority of these hacks have no innate talent, it's up to the original writers of the songs to provide most of the artistic heft. Sure, "Mahna Mahna" is a classic, but what do The Fray bring to it? Nothing. Same goes for the "Muppet Show Theme" (OK Go) and "Rainbow Connection," which Weezer and Paramore front-cunt Hayley Williams butcher. Where are the artists whose playful sense of whimsy - The Flaming Lips, Green Day, Jesus, anybody but who's here - could give these songs something other than a straight-faced reading?

The only highlight is a cover of "Bein' Green" by Andrew Bird, who lends an aura of sincerity to the proceedings that the song demands. Otherwise, this collection is more than a complete and total dud - it's an insult in a Digipack.